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THE 


English  of  Shakespeare; 


ILLDSTKATED    IK 


^  i^ilfllopal  Cflmm^ntars 


JULIUS     CESAR. 


GEORGE    L.  CRATK, 

PBOFES30B  or  BISTORT  AND  OF  ENGLISH  LitrrAT:JKB  IJf  QUSEK'S  COij;.SGA, 
BELFAST.    .  ^.      m      ■*   . 


!EB£leK,  from   iije   tirtjitts   iaebigeO   Honfion   EDttton, 

BY 

W.  J.    ROLFE, 

KA8TEB  or  THE  HIGH  SCHOOL,  CAKBBIDOB,  MASS. 


BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED     BY     EDWIN     GINK 

WOOLWORTH,  AINSWORTH,  &    CO. 

CHICAGO:    FRED    B.    QINN. 

1869. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1867,  by 

CROSBY   AND  AINSWORTH, 

In  the  Clerk'B  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusett*. 


THIRD    EDITION. 


•  Tt«eOTVrt 0     AT     TN  t 

NO.    4    SPKINO    LANS. 

Preuwork  bj  John  Wilson  and  Sob. 


PREFACE 

TO  THE  AMERICAN  EDITION. 


A  YEAR  ago  I  let  a  class  at  school  take  yulius 
CcEsar  as  their  first  reading  in  Shakespeare,  and 
made  daily  use  of  this  book  of  Professor  Craik's  in 
teaching  them.  They  noted  down  all  the  more  im- 
portant points  as  I  gave  them,  and,  without  having 
seen  the  book,  learned  the  better  part  of  it  pretty 
thoroughly.  It  took  more  time  than  I  had  ever 
before  given  to  a  single  play,  —  considerably  more, 
of  course,  than  would  have  been  necessary  if  the 
book  had  been  in  the  hands  of  the  scholars ;  but 
the  results  satisfied  me  that  it  was  time  well  spent. 
I  never  had  a  class  that  became  so  heartily  interested 
in  Shakespeare,  or  that  went  on  so  rapidly  and  so 
well  in  reading  other  plays.  It  was  the  success  of 
this  experiment  with  the  book  that  led  me  to  think 
of  editing  it.  I  wanted  it  for  my  own  classes,  and 
I  venture  to  hope  that  it  may  be  of  service  to  other 
students  of  Shakespeare,  whether  in  school  or  out 
of  school.  rr:      i\^^  f\ 


viii     Preface  to  the  American  Edition. 

as  well  as  I  could  Prof.  Craik's  plan  of  giving  the 
readings  adopted  by  the  different  editors,  and  their 
comments  on  difficult  or  disputed  passages. 

I  have  added  largely  to  the  references  to  Bible 
passages  illustrating  Shakespeare's  English.  I  had 
done  a  good  part  of  this  work  some  months  before 
I  met  with  The  Bible  Word-Book^  by  Eastwood 
and  Wright  (London,  1866)  ;  but  in  revising  my 
notes  for  publication  I  made  free  use  of  that  admi- 
rable little  book,  and  drew  from  it  considerable 
additional  matter. 

To  Prof.  F.  J.  Child,  of  Harvard  College,  for  the 
encouragement  he  has  given  me  in  my  work,  and 
for  many  valuable  criticisms  and  suggestions,  I  am 
under  especial  obligations. 

W.  J.  R. 

Cambridge,  Feb.  15,  1867. 


THE  AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 


In  this  attempt  to  illustrate  the  English  of 
Shakespeare,  I  would  be  understood  to  have  had 
a  twofold  purpose,  in  conformity  with  the  title  of 
the  volume,  which  would  naturally  be  taken  to*prom- 
ise  something  of  exposition  in  rg^nrri  bftth  to  the  * 
language  or  style  of  Shakespeare  and  to  the  English 
Janguage  generally. 

My  first  business  I  have  considered  to  be  the  cor- 
rect exhibition  and  explanation  of  the  noble  work 
of  our  great  dramatist  with  which  the  volume  pro- 
fesses to  be  specially  occupied.  I  will  begin,  there- 
fore, by  stating  what  I  have  done,  or  endeavored  to 
do,  for  the  Play  of  Julius  C^sar. 

I  have  given  what  I  believe  to  be  a  more  nearly 
authentic  text  than  has  yet  appeared.  Julius  Ccesar 
is,  probably,  of  all  Shakespeare's  Plays,  the  one  of 
which  the  text  has  come  down  to  us  in  the  least 
unsatisfactory  state.  From  whatever  cause  it  has 
happened,  the  passages  in  this  Play  as  to  the  true 
reading  of  which  there  can  be  much  reasonable 
doubt  are,  comparatively,  very  few.  Even  when 
anything  is  wrong  in  the  original  edition,  the  man- 
ner in  which  it  is  to  be  set  to  rights  is  for  the  most 
part  both  pretty  obvious  and  nearly  certain.     There 

(Ix) 


X  The  Author's  Preface. 

are,  perhaps,  scarcely  so  many  as  half  a  dozen  lines 
of  any  importance  which  must  be  given  up  as  hope- 
lessly incurable  or  even  doubtful.  It  is,  I  should 
think,  of  all  the  Plays,  by  much  the  easiest  to  edit ; 
both  the  settlement  of  the  text  and  its  explanation 
are,  I  conceive,  simpler  than  would  be  the  case  in 
any  other;  and  it  is  for  that  reason  partly  that  I 
have  selected  it  for  the  present  attempt. 

The  alterations  Which  I  haVe  found  it  necessary 
to  make  upon  the  commonly  received  text  do  not 
amount  to  very  many ;  and  the  considerations  by 
which  I  have  been  guided  are  in  every  instance  fully 
stated  in  the  Commentary.  The  only  conjectural 
innovations  which  I  have  ventured  upon  of  my  own 
are,  the  change  of  "  What  night  is  this  ?  "  into  "  What 
anight  is  this!"  in  the  speech  numbered  117;  the 
insertion  of  *'  not"  after  "  Has  he,"  in  that  numbered 
401  ;  and  the  transposition  of  the  two  names  Lu- 
cilius  and  Lucius  in  that  numbered  520.  The  first 
and  second  of  these  three  corrections  are  of  little 
moment,  though  both,  I  think,  clearly  required ;  the 
third  I  hold  to  be  both  of  absolute  certainty  and 
necessity,  and  also  of  considerable  importance,  af- 
fecting as  it  does  the  whole  course  of  the  Fourth 
Act  of  the  Play,  restoring  propriety  and  consistency 
to  the  conduct  of  the  action  and  the  parts  sustained 
by  the  various  personages,  and  vindicating  a  reading 
of  the  First  Folio  in  a  subsequent  speech  (570), 
which,  curiously  enough,  had  never  been  previously 
noticed  by  anybody,  but  has  been  silently  ignored 
and  departed  from  even  by  those  of  the  modern 
editors  who  have  professed  to  adhere  the  most  scru- 
pulously to  that  original  text. 


The  Author's  Preface.  xi 

For  the  rest,  the  present  text  differs  in  nothing 
material  from  that  which  is  found  in  all  the  modern 
editions,  unless  it  be  that  I  have  restored  from  the 
First  Folio  one  or  two  antiquated  forms,  —  such  as 
^em  for  them^  and  moe  in  several  places  for  more^  — 
which  have  been  usually  suppressed,  although  ^em 
remains  familiar  enough  in  our  colloquial  speech, 
or  at  any  rate  is  still  perfectly  intelligible  and  unam- 
biguous, and  moe  is  sometimes  the  only  form  that 
will  suit  the  exigencies  of  the  verse.     .     .     . 

As  for  the  present  Commentary  on  the  Play  of 
Julius  Ccesar^,  it  will  be  perceived  that  it  does  not 
at  all  aspire  to  what  is  commonly  distinguished  as 
the  higher  criticism.  It  does  not  seek  to  examine  or 
to  expound  this  Shakespearian  drama  aesthetically, 
but  only  philologically,  or  with  respect  to  the  lan- 
guage. The  only  kind  of  criticism  which  it  pro- 
fesses is  whaf  is  called  verbal  criticism.  Its  whole 
aim,  in  so  far  as  it  relates  to  the  particular  work  to 
which  it  is  attached,  is,  as  far  as  may  be  done,  first 
to  ascertain  or  determine  the  text,  secondly  to  ex- 
plain it;  to  inquire,  in  other  words,  what  Shake- 
speare really  wrote,  and  how  what  he  has  written 
is  to  be  read  and  construed. 

Wherever  either  the  earliest  text  or  that  which  is 
commonly  received  has  been  deviated  from  to  the 
extent  of  a  word  or  a  syllable,  the  alteration  has 
been  distinctly  indicated.  In  this  way  a  complete 
representation  is  given,  in  so  far  at  least  as  regards 
the  language,  both  of  the  text  of  the  editio  princeps 
and  of  the  textus  receptus.  I  have  not  sought  to 
register  with  the  same  exactness  the  various  readings 
of  the  other  texts,  ancient  and  modern ;  but  I  be- 


xii  The  Author's  Preface. 

lieve,  nevertheless,  that  all  will  be  found  to  be  noted 
that  are  of  any  interest  either  in  the  Second  Folio 
or  among  the  conjectures  of  the  long  array  of  edi- 
tors and  commentators  extending  from  Rowe  to  our 
own  day. 

Then,  with  regard  to  the  explanation  of  the  text : 
I  confess  that  here  my  fear  is  rather  that  I  shall  be 
thought  to  have  done  too  much  than  too  little.  But 
I  have  been  desirous  to  omit  nothing  that  any  reader 
might  require  for  the  full  understanding  of  the  Play, 
in  so  far  as  I  was  able  to  supply  it.  I  have  even 
retained  the  common  school-boy  explanations  of  the 
few  points  of  Roman  antiquities  to  which  allusions 
occur,  such  as  the  arrangements  of  the  Calendar, 
the  usages  of  the  Lupercalia,  etc.  The  expressioii^ 
however,  is  what  I  have  chiefly  dwelt  upon.  The 
labors  of  scores  of  expositors,  emlDodied  in  hun- 
dreds of  volumes,  attest  the  existence  m  the  writings 
of  Shakespeare  of  numerous  words,  phraseologies, 
and  passages  the  import  of  which  is,  to  say  the 
least,  not  obvious  to  ordinary  readers  of  the  present 
day.  This  comes  partly  from  certain  characteristics 
of  his  style,  which  would  probably  have  made  him 
occasionally  a  difiicult  author  in  any  circumstances  ; 
but  much  more  from  the  two  facts,  of  the  corrupted 
or  at  least  doubtful  state  of  the  text  in  many  places, 
and  the  changes  that  our  national  speech  has  under- 
gone since  his  age.  The  English  of  the  sixteenth 
century  is  in  various  respects  a  different  language 
from  that  of  the  nineteenth.  The  words  and  con- 
structions are  not  throughout  the  same,  and  when 
they  are  they  have  not  always  the  same  meaning. 
Much  of  Shakespeare's  vocabulary  has   ceased  to 


The  Author's  Preface.  xiii 

fall  from  either  our  lips  or  our  pens ;  much  of  the 
meaning  which  he  attached  to  so  much  of  it  as  still 
survives  has  dropped  out  of  our  minds.  What  is  most 
misleading  of  all,  many  words  and  forms  have  ac- 
quired senses  for  us  which  they  had  not  for  him. 
All  such  cases  that  the  Play  presents  I  have  made 
it  my  object  to  notice.  Wherever  there  seemed  to 
be  any  risk  of  the  true  meaning  being  mistaken, 
I  have,  in  as  few  words  as  possible  stated  what  I 
conceived  it  to  be.  Where  it  was  not  clear  to  my- 
self, I  have  frankly  confessed  my  inability  to  explain 
it  satisfactorily. 

In  so  far  as  the  Commentary  relates  to  the  par- 
ticular Play  which  it  goes  over,  and  professes  to 
elucidate,  it  is  intended  to  be  as  complete  as  I  could 
make  it,  in  the  sense  of  not  leaving  any  passage 
unremarked  upon  which  seemed  to  be  difficult  or 
obscure.  But,  of  course,  it  puts  forward  no  preten- 
sions to  a  similar  completeness,  or  thoroughness,  in 
respect  of  any  further  purpose.  It  is  far  from  em- 
bracing the  whole  subject  of  the  English  of  Shake' 
speare^  or  making  any  attempt  to  do  so.  It  is  merely 
an  introduction  to  that  subject.  In  the  Prolegomena^ 
nevertheless,  I  have  sought  to  lay  a  foundation  for 
the  full  and  systematic  treatment  of  an  important 
department  of  it,  in  the  exposition  which  is  given  of 
some  principles  of  our  prosody,  and  some  peculiari- 
ties of  Shakespeare's  versification,  which  his  editors 
have  not  in  general  sufficiently  attended  to.  Such 
investigations  are,  I  conceive,  full  of  promise  of  new 
light  in  regard  to  the  history  both  of  the  Plays  and 
of  the  mind  of  their  author. 

Still   less   can   the  Commentary  pretend  to   any 


xiv  The  Author's  Preface. 

completeness  in  what  it  may  contain  in  reference  to 
the  history  and  constitution  of  the  language  gener- 
ally, or  of  particular  classes  of  words  and  construc- 
tions. Among  the  fragments,  or  specimens,  how- 
ever,— for  they  can  be  nothing  more, — which  occur 
in  it  of  this  kind  of  speculation,  are  a  few  which 
will  be  found,  perhaps,  to  carry  out  the  examination 
of  a  principle,  or  the  survey  of  a  group  of  connected 
facts,  farther  than  had  before  been  done;  such  as 
thbse  in  the  notes  on  Merely  (45),  on  Its  (54),  on 
Shrew  and  Shrewd  (186),  on  Statue  (246),  on  the 
prefix  Be  (389) ,  etc.  .  .  . 

G.  L.  C. 


CONTENTS 


PROLEGOMENA. 

Shakespeare's  Personal  History. X 

Shakespeare's  Works 4 

The  Sources  for  the  Text  op  Shakespeare's 

Plays 10 

The  Shakespearian  Editors  and  Commenta- 
tors  23 

The  Modern  Shakespearian  Texts 25 

The  Mechanism  of  English  Verse,   and  the 

Prosody  of  the  Plays  of  Shakespeare.  28 

Shakespeare's  Julius  C-tEsar 44 

THE  TRAGEDY  OF  JULIUS  C^SAR 59 

PHILOLOGICAL   COMMENTARY 13X 

(XV) 


[The  English  language,  which  has  produced  and  nour- 
ished with  its  milk  the  greatest  of  modern  poets,  the  only 
one  who  can  be  compared  to  the  classical  poets  of  antiquity, 
(who  does  not  see  that  I  am  speaking  of  Shakespeare?) 
may  of  good  right  be  called  a  universal  language. 

Grimm, 

English  .  .  .  has  always  needed,  and  still  needs,  more 
powerful  securities  and  bulwarks  against  incessant  revolu- 
tion than  other  languages  of  less  heterogeneous  compo- 
sition. The  three  great  literary  monuments,  the  English 
Bible,  Shakespeare,  and  Milton,  fixed  the  syntax  of  the 
sacred  and  the  secular  dialects  in  the  forms  which  they  had 
already  taken,  and  perpetuated  so  much  of  the  vocabulary 
as  entered  into  their  composition. 

Their  great  poets  have  been  more  powerful  than  any 
other  secular  influence  in  first  making,  and  then  keeping, 
the  Englishman  and  the  American  what  they  are,  what  for 
hundreds  of  years  they  have  been,  what,  God  willing,  for 
thousands  they  shall  be,  the  pioneer  race  in  the  march  of 
man  towards  the  highest  summits  of  worthy  human  achieve- 
ment. Marsk. 

We  must  be  free  or  die,  who  speak  the  tongue 
That  Shakespeare  spoke,  the  faith  and  morals  hold 
That  Milton  held ! 

Wordsworth.'\ 

(xvl) 


THE 


English  of  Shakespeare, 


ETC. 


PROLEGOMENA. 
I.    SHAKESPEARE'S  PERSONAL  HISTORY. 

WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE  was  born  at 
Stratford-upon-Avon,  in  the  county  of  War- 
wick, in  April,  1564.  His  baptism  is  recorded  in  the 
parish  register  as  having  taken  place  on  Wednesday 
the  26th,  and  the  inscription  on  his  tomb  makes  him 
to  have  been  in  his  tifty-third  year  when  he  died,  on 
the  23d  of  April,  1616;  his  birthday,  therefore,  can- 
not have  been  later  than  the  23d.  It  was  more 
probably  some  days  earlier.  It  is  commonly  as- 
sumed, nevertheless,  to  have  been  the  23d,  which, 
besides  being  also  the  day  of  his  death,  is  the  day 
dedicated  to  St.  George  the  Martyr,  the  patron  saint 
of  England. 

His  father  was  John  Shakespeare ;  his  mother, 
Mary  Arderne,  or  Arden.  The  Ardens  were  among 
the  oldest  of  the  county  gentry ;  many  of  the 
Shakespeares  also,  who  were  numerous  in  Warwick- 
shire, were  of  good  condition.  The  name  in  provin- 
cial speech  was  probably  sounded  Shackspeare  or 
Shacksper ;  but  even  in  the  poet's  own  day  its  more 


2  Prolegomena. 

refined  or  literary  pronunciation  seems  to  have  been 
the  same  that  now  prevails.  It  was  certainly  recog- 
nized as  a  combination  of  the  two  words  Shake  and 
Spear.  His  own  spelling  of  it,  however,  in  a  few 
instances  in  which  that,  our  only  known  fragment 
of  his  handwriting,  has  come  down  to  us,  is  Shak- 
spere. 

John  Shakespeare  appears  to  have  followed  the 
business  of  a  glover,  including,  no  doubt,  the  making 
of  gloves  as  well  as  the  selling  of  them.  He  seems 
to  have  fallen  latterly  into  decayed  circumstances ; 
but  in  his  better  days  it  is  evident  that  he  ranked 
with  the  first  class  of  the  burgesses  of  his  town.  He 
was  for  many  years  an  alderman,  and  twice  filled 
the  office  of  High  Bailiff',  or  chief  magistrate.  He 
was  also,  though  perhaps  never  very  wealthy,  but 
rather  always  a  struggling  man,  possessed  of  some 
houses  in  Stratford,  as  well  as  of  a  small  freehold 
estate  acquired  by  his  marriage  ;  and  his  connection 
with  the  Arden  family  would  itself  bring  him  con- 
sideration. His  marriage  probably  took  place  in 
1557.  ^^  lived  till  1602,  and  his  wife  till  1608.  Of 
eight  children,  four  sons  and  four  daughters,  William 
was  the  third,  but  the  eldest  son. 

Shakespeare's  father,  like  the  generality  of  persons 
of  his  station  in  life  of  that  day,  appears  to  have 
been  unable  to  write  his  name  ;  ^11  his  signature  in 
the  books  of  the  corporation  is  his  cross,  or  mark ; 
but  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  son  had  a  gram- 
mar-school education.  He  was  in  all  probability 
sent  to  the  free-school  of  his  native  town.  Affier  he 
left  school  it  has  been  thought  that  he  may  have 
spent  some  time  in  an  attorney's  office.  But  in  1582, 
when  he  was  only  eighteen,  he  married ;  his  wife, 
Anne  Hathaway,  of  Shottery,  in  the  neighborhood 


Personal  History.  3 

of  Stratford,  was  about  eight  years  older  than  him- 
self; children  soon  followed,  —  first  a  daughter,  tlien 
twins,  a  son  and  daughter ;  and  this  involvement 
may  be  conjectured  to  have  been  what  drove  him  to 
London,  in  the  necessity  of  finding  some  way  of 
supporting  his  family  which  required  no  apprentice- 
ship. He  became  first  an  actor,  then  a  writer  for 
the  stage.  Already  by  the  year  1589  he  had  worked 
his  way  up  to  be  one  of  the  proprietors  of  the  Black- 
friars  Theatre.*  But  he  seems  always  to  have  con- 
tinued to  look  upon  Stratford  as  his  home  ;  there  he 
left  his  w^ife  and  children  ;  he  is  said  to  have  made 
a  point  of  revisiting  his  native  town  once  a  year; 
and  thither,  after  he  had,  by  the  unceasing  activity 
of  many  years,  secured  a  competency,  he  returned 
to  spend  the  evening  of  his  days  in  quiet.  So  that 
we  may  say  he  resorted  to  London,  after  all,  only  as 
the  sailor  goes  to  sea,  always  intending  to  come 
back.  He  appears  to  have  finally  retired  to  Strat- 
ford, about  the  year  161 2,  and  settled  there  on  a  prop- 
erty which  he  had  purchased  some  years  previous : 
his  wife  still  lived,  and  also  his  two  daughters,  of 
whom  the  elder,  Susanna,  was  married  to  Dr.  John 
Hall,  a  physician,  in  1607  ;  the  younger,  Judith,  to  Mr. 
Thomas  Qiiiney,  in  February,  161 6.  But  he  had  lost 
his  only  son,  who  was  named  Hamnet,  in  1596, 
when  the  boy  was  in  his  twelfth  year.  Shakespeare 
died  at  Stratford,  as  already  mentioned,  on  the  23d 
of  April,  1616 ;  and  he  lies  interred  in  tlie  parish 
church  there. 

His  wife  survived  till  August,   1623.      Both  his 

*  [But  the  genuineness  of  the  document  upon  which  this 
statement  is  based  has  been  disputed  by  the  highest  paleo- 
graphic  authority  in  England.  See  White's  Shakespeare, 
vol.  i.  p.  Ivii.,  foot-note;  pp.  Ixiii.  foil.] 


4  Prolegomena. 

daughters  had  families ;  Susanna,  a  daughter,  who 
was  twice  married ;  Judith,  three  sons ;  but  no  de- 
scendant of  the  great  poet  now  exists.  The  last  was 
probably  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  Dr.  Hall,  who  be- 
came the  wife  first  of  Thomas  Nash,  Esq.,  secondly 
of  Sir  John  Barnard,  and  died  without  issue  by 
either  husband  in  February,  1670.  Nor  is  it  known 
that  there  are  any  descendants  even  of  his  father 
remaining,  although  one  of  his  brothers  and  also 
one  of  his  sisters  are  ascertained  to  have  been  mar- 
ried, and  to  have  had  issue. 


II.    SHAKESPEARE'S  WORKS. 

The  first  work  of  Shakespeare's  which  was 
printed  with  his  name  was  his  poem  entitled  Vemcs 
and  Adonis^  in  stanzas  consisting  each  of  an  alter- 
nately rhyming  quatrain  followed  by  a  couplet.  It 
appeared  in  1593,  with  a  Dedication  to  the  Earl  of 
Southampton,  in  which  the  author  styles  it  the  .first 
heir  of  his  invention.  This  was  followed  in  1594  by 
The  Rape  of  Lucrece^  in  stanzas  of  seven  lines, 
one  rhyming  to  the  fourth  being  here  inserted  before 
the  closing  couplet ;  it  is  also  dedicated  to  Lord 
Southampton,  to  whom  the  author  expresses  the 
most  unlimited  obligation.  "  What  I  have  done," 
he  says,  "  is  yours ;  what  I  have  to  do  is  yours ; 
being  part  in  all  I  have,  devoted  yours."  The 
Venus  and  Adonis  was  thrice  reprinted  in  Shake- 
speare's lifetime  ;  the  Lucrece^  five  or  six  times. 

His  other  works,  besides  his  Plays,  are  The  Pas- 
sionate Pilgrim^  a  small  collection  of  poems,  first 
printed  in  1599;  and  his  Sonnets^  154  in  number, 
with  the  poem  entitled  A  Lover's  Co7?zplaint  (in 
the  same  stanza  as  the  Lttcrece)^  which  appeared 


Works.  5 

together  in  1609.  But  the  Sonnets,  or  some  of  them 
at  least,  were  well  known  long  before  this.  "  As 
the  soul  of  Euphorbus  was  thought  to  live  in  Pythag- 
oras," says  a  writer  named  Francis  Meres  in  his 
Palladis  Tamia^  published  in  1598,  "  so  the  sweet 
witty  soul  of  Ovid  lives  in  mellifluous  and  honey- 
tongued  Shakespeare  :  witness  his  Venus  and  Ado- 
nis^ his  Lucrece^  his  sugared  Sonnets  among  his 
private  friends."  It  was  still  a  common  practice  for 
works  to  be  circulated  to  a  limited  extent  in  manu- 
script while  they  were  withheld  from  the  press. 

The  first  edition  of  Shakespeare's  collected  Dra- 
matic Works  appeared  in  1623,  or  not  till  seven 
years  after  his  death,  in  a  folio  volume.  A  second 
edition,  with  numerous  verbal  alterations,  but  no 
additional  Plays,  was  brought  out  in  the  same  form 
in  1632.  In  1664  appeared  a  third  edition,  also  in 
folio,  containing  seven  additional  Plays.  Ai)d  a 
fourth  and  last  folio  reprint  followed  in  1685. 

The  Plays  that  are  now  commonly  received  as 
Shakespeare's  are  all  those  that  are  contained  in  the 
First  Folio,  being  thirty-six  in  number,  together  with 
Pericles^  Prince  of  Tyre^  one  of  the  seven  added  in 
the  Third  Folio.  Besides  the  other  six  in  that  edi- 
tion, —  entitled  The  Tragedy  of  Locrine^  The 
First  Part  of  the  Life  of  Sir  John  Oldcastle^  The 
Chronicle  History  of  Thomas  Lord  Cromwell^ 
The  Lo7ido7i  Prodigal^  The  Puritan^  and  A  York- 
shire Tragedy^  —  there  have  been  ascribed  to  Shake- 
speare in  more  recent  times  the  old  Plays  of  The 
Reign  of  King  Edward  the  Third  a.nd  The  Trage- 
dy of  Arden  of  Fever  sham ;  and  by  certain  Ger- 
man critics  those  of  The  Cofncdy  of  George-a-  Green 
(generally  held  to  be  the  work  of  Robert  Greene), 
The  Co?nedy  of  Mucedorus^  The  Birth  of  Merlin^ 


6  Prolegomena. 

and  The  Merry  Devil  of  Edmonton,  Some  of 
these  are  among  the  humblest  productions  of  the 
human  intellect :  that  the  notion  of  their  being 
Shakespeare's  should  have  been  taken  up  by  such 
men  as  Schlegel  and  Tieck  is  an  illustrious  instance 
of  how  far  the  blinding  and  extravagant  spirit  of 
system  may  go.  Finally,  the  Play  of  The  Two  No- 
ble Kinsmetz^  commonly  included  among  those  of 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  has  been  attributed  in  part 
to  Shakespeare ;  it  is  described  on  the  title  page  of 
the  first  edition,  published  in  1634,  as  written  by 
Fletcher  and  Shakespeare,  and  the  opinion  that 
Shakespeare  had  a  share  in  it  has  been  revived  in 
our  own  day. 

Of  the  thirty-seven  Plays  generally  held  to  be  gen- 
uine, eighteen  are  known  to  have  been  separately 
printed,  some  of  them  oftener  than  once,  in  Shake- 
speare's lifetime  :  —  Titus  Andronicus^  Romeo  and 
yuliet^  Love's  Labour's  Lost^  Midsummer  Nighfs 
Dream^  Much  Ado  about  Nothings  Mercha7it  of 
Venice^  Lear^  Troilus  and  Cressida^  Pericles^ 
Richard  the  Seco7id^  First  Part  of  Henry  the 
Fourth^  Second  Part  of  He7iry  the  Fourth^  Rich 
ard  the  Third  (all  substantially  as  we  now  have 
them)  ;  Ha^nlet^  in  three  editions,  two  of  them 
greatly  diflering  the  one  from  the  other ;  and,  in 
forms  more  or  less  unlike  our  present  copies,  The 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor^  Henry  the  Fifths  and  the 
Second  ?iXi^  Third  Parts  of  Heitry  the  Sixths  under 
the  titles  of  "  The  First  Part  of  the  Contention  be- 
twixt the  Houses  of  York  and  Lancaster,"  and  "The 
True  Tragedy  of  Richard  Duke  of  York  "  (often 
referred  to  as  "  The  Second  Part  of  the  Conten- 
tion" ).  Nor  is  it  improbable  that  there  may  have 
been  early  impressions  of  some  others  of  the  Plays, 


Works.  7 

although  no  copies  are  now  known.  The  Tragedy 
of  Othello  was  also  printed  separately  in  1622.  All 
these  separately  published  Plays  are  in  quarto,  and 
are  familiarly  known  as  the  old  or  early  Quartos. 

The  following  eighteen  Plays  appeared  for  the 
first  time,  as  far  as  is  known,  in  the  Folio  of  1623  :  — 
The  Tempest^  The  Two  Geiitleinen  of  Vero7ia^ 
Measure  for  Measure^  The  Comedy  of  Errors^  As 
Tou  Like  It^  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew ^  All's 
Well  that  Ends  Well,  Twelfth  Night,  A  Winter's 
Tale,  King  John,  The  First  Part  of  Henry  the 
Sixth,  Henry  the  Eighth,  Coriolanus,  Timon  of 
Athens,  Julius  Ccesar,  Macbeth,  Anthony  and 
Cleopatra,  and  Cymbeline. 

There  is  reason  to  believe  that  the  first  edition  of 
Titus  Andronicus  was  printed  in  1594,  although 
the  earliest  of  which  any  copy  is  now  known  is 
dated  1600.  The  earliest  existing  editions  oi  Romeo 
and  fuliet,  Richard  the  Second,  and  Richard  the 
Third,  bear  the  date  of  1597.  The  dates  of  the 
other  Quartos  (except  Othello)  all  range  between 
159S  and  1609.  It  appears,  however,  from  Francis 
Mercs's  book,  mentioned  above,  that  by  the  year 
1598,  when  it  was  published,  Shakespeare  had  al- 
ready produced  at  least  the  following  Plays,  several 
of  which,  as  we  have  seen,  are  not  known  to  have 
been  printed  till  they  were  included,  a  quarter  of  a 
century  afterwards,  in  the  First  Folio  :  —  The  Two 
Gentle?nen  of  Verona,  The  Comedy  of  Errors, 
Love's  Labour's  Lost,  Midsunwzer  Night's  Dream, 
The  Merchant  of  Venice,  Richard  the  Second, 
Richard  the  Third,  Hefzry  the  Fourth,  King 
John,  Titus  Andro7iicus,  Romeo  a?id  ytiliet,  and 
another  called  Lovers  Labour's  Won,  which  has  been 
commonly  supposed  to  be  that  now  entitled  All's 


8  Prolegomena 

Well  that  Ends  Well.*  And  Meres  cannot  be  held 
to  profess  to  do  more  than  to  instance  some  of  the 
works  by  which  Shakespeare  had  by  this  time,  in  his 
opinion,  proved  himself  the  greatest  English  writer 
that  had  yet  arisen,  both  in  tragedy  and  in  comedy. 
Six  years  before  this,  or  in  1592,  Robert  Greene, 

*  But  the  play  of  ^//'5  Well  that  Ends  Well  seems  to  have 
its  present  title  built  or  wrought  into  it,  and  as  it  were  in- 
corporated with  it.  It  is  Helena's  habitual  word,  and  the 
thought  that  is  never  absent  from  her  mind.  "All's  well 
that  ends  well,"  she  exclaims,  in  the  Fourth  Scene  of  the 
Fourth  Act,  — 

Still  the  fine's  the  crown  : 
Whate'er  the  course,  the  end  is  the  renown. 

And  again  in  the  First  Scene  of  the  Fifth  Act :  — 

All's  well  that  ends  well  jet.     • 

So  also  the  King,  in  the  concluding  lines  of  the  play :  — 

All  yet  seems  well ;  and,  if  it  end  so  meet 
The  bitter  past,  more  welcome  is  the  sweet; 

and  then  to  the  audience :  — 

The  king's  a  beggar,  now  the  play  is  done ; 
All  is  well  ended,  if  this  suit  be  won, 
That  you  express  content. 

There  would  be  no  nature  or  meaning  in  the  dialogue  cir- 
cling around  the  phrase  in  question,  or  continually  return- 
ing upon  it,  in  this  way,  unless  it  formed  the  name  of  the 
Play.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is  not  an  expression 
throughout  the  piece  that  can  be  fairly  considered  as  allu- 
sive to  such  a  title  as  Love's  Labour's  Won. 

Another  notion  that  has  been  taken  up  is  that  the  Play 
now  known  as  The  Temfest  is  that  designated  Love's  La- 
bour's Won  by  Meres.  This  is  the  theory  of  the  Reverend 
Joseph  Hunter,  first  brought  forward  in  a  "  Disquisition  on 
the  Tempest,"  published  in  1841,  and  reproduced  in  the  Sec- 
ond Part  of  his  "New  Illustrations  of  the  Life,  Studies,  and 
Writings  of  Shakespeare,"  1844.  But,  notwithstanding  all 
the  learning  and  ingenuity  by  which  it  has  been  set  forth 
and  defended,  it  has  probably  not  met  with  much  accept- 
ance. One  would  as  soon*  believe  with  Ulrici  that  The 
Tem;pest  is  the  very  latest  of  all  Shakespeare's  Plays,  as  with 
Mr.  Hunter  that  it  is  one  of  his  earliest,  —  "  nearly  the  first 
in  time,"  he  calls  it,  "  as  the  first  in  place  [meaning  as  it 


Works.  9 

accounted  by  himself  and  others  one  of  the  chief 
lights  of  that  early  morning  of  our  drama,  but 
destined  to  be  soon  completely  outshone  and  extin- 
guished, had,  perhaps  with  some  presentiment  of 
his  coming  fate,  in  a  pamphlet  which  he  entitled 
"  Greene's  Groatsworth  of  Wit,"    thus  vented   his 

stands  in  the  original  collective  edition],  of  the  dramas 
which  are  wholly  his." 

May  not  the  true  Love's  Labour's  Won  be  what  we  now 
call  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew  ?  That  play  is  founded  upon 
an  older  one  called  The  Taining  of  A  Shrew  ;  it  is  therefore 
in  the  highest  degree  improbable  that  it  was  originally  pro- 
duced under  its  present  name.  The  designation  by  which 
it  is  now  known,  in  all  likelihood,  was  only  given  to  it  after 
its  predecessor  had  been  driven  from  the  stage,  and  had 
come  to  be  generally  forgotten.  Have  we  not  that  which  it 
previously  laore  indicated  in  one  of  the  restorations  of  Mr. 
Collier's  MS.  annotator,  who  directs  us,  in  the  last  line  but 
one  of  the  Second  Act,  instead  of  "  in  this  case  oi wooing" 
to  read  "  in  this  case  oi winning"  thus  giving  us  what  may 
stand,  in  want  of  a  better,  for  a  rhyme  to  the  "if  I  fail  not 
of  my  cunning"  of  the  line  following.?  The  lines  are  pretty 
evidently  intended  to  rln^me,  however  rudely.  The  Play  is, 
besides,  full  of  other  repetitions  of  the  same  key-note.  Thus, 
in  the  Second  Scene  of  Act  I.,  when  Hortensio  informs  Gre- 
mio  that  he  had  promised  Petrucio,  if  he  would  become 
suitor  to  Katharine,  that  they  "would  be  contributors.  And 
bear  his  charge  of  wooing,  whatsoe'er,"  Gremio  answers, 
"And  so  we  will,  provided  that  he  win  her."  In  the  Fifth 
Scene  of  Act  IV.,  when  the  resolute  Veronese  has  brought 
the  shrew  to  a  complete  submission,  Hortensio's  congratula- 
tion is,  "  Petrucio,  go  thy  ways ;  the  field  is  won."  So  in 
the  concluding  scene  the  lady's  father  exclaims,  "  Now  fair 
befall  thee,  good  Petrucio  !  The  wager  thou  hast  won  ;  "  to 
which  the  latter  replies,  "Nay,  I  will  win  my  wager  better 
yet."  And  his  last  words  in  passing  from  the  stage,  as  if  in 
pointed  allusion  to  our  supposed  title  of  the  piece,  are,  — 

*Twas  I  won  the  wager,  though  you  [Luceuiiol  hit  the  white ; 
And,  being  a  winner,  God  give  you  good  night  I 

The  title  of  Love's  Labour's  Won,  it  may  be  added,  might 
also  comprehend  the  underplot  of  Lucentio  and  Bianca,  and 
even  that  of  Hortensio  and  the  Widow,  though  in  the  case 
of  the  latter  it  might  rather  be  supposed  to  be  the  lady  who 
should  be  deemed  the  winning  party. 


lo  Prolegomena. 

anger  against  the  new  luminary :  "  There  is  an 
upstart  crow,  beautified  with  our  feathers,  that,  with 
his  tiger's  heart  wrapped  in  a  player's  hide,  supposes 
he  is  as  well  able  to  bombast  out  a  blank  verse  as  the 
best  of  you  ;  and,  being  an  absolute  Johannes  Fac- 
totum^ is,  in  his  own  conceit,  the  only  Shake-sce?ie 
in  a  country."  This  would  seem  to  imply,  what  is 
otherwise  probable  enough,  that  up  to  this  time 
Shakespeare  had  chiefly  made  himself  known  as  a 
dramatic  writer  by  remodelling  and  improving  the 
works  of  his  predecessors.  He  may,  however,  have 
also  even  already  produced  some  Plays  wholly  of  his 
own  composition.  If  Titus  Andronicus  and  the 
Three  Parts  of  Henry  the  Sixth  are  to  be  accounted 
his  in  any  sense,  they  probably  belong  to  this  earliest 
stage  of  his  career. 

Of  the  thirty-seven  Plays  there  are  seven  the 
authenticity  of  which  has  been  more  or  less  ques- 
tioned. The  Three  Parts  of  King  Henry  the  Sixth 
(especially  the  First)  and  Titus  Andronicus^  if  they 
are  by  Shakespeare,  have  very  little  of  his  character- 
istic manner ;  Pericles  has  come  down  to  us  in  so 
corrupted  a  state  that  the  evidence  of  manner  and 
style  is  somewhat  unsatisfactory,  though  it  is  prob- 
ably his  ;  Timon  of  Athens  is  generally  admitted  to 
be  only  partly  his ;  and  much  of  King  Henry  the 
Eighth^  which  has  only  recently  come  to  be  sus- 
pected, is  also  evidently  by  another  hand. 

III.    THE  SOURCES  FOR  THE   TEXT  OF  SHAKE- 
SPEARE'S  PLAYS. 

From  what  has  been  stated  it  appears  that,  of  the 
entire  number  of  thirty-seven  Plays  which  are  usu- 
ally regarded  as  Shakespeare's,  there  are  ovXy  four' 


The  Old  Texts.  ii 

teen  (including  Hamlet)  of  which,  in  what  may  be 
called  their  completed  state  or  ultimate  form,  we 
possess  impressions  published  in  his  lifetime ;  to- 
gether with  four  others  (reckoning  the  Second  and 
Third  Parts  of  He7try  the  Sixth  to  be  the  same  with 
the  Two  Parts  of  the  Co7itentio7i)  of  which  in  an  im- 
mature and  imperfect  state  we  have  such  impres- 
sions. Of  one  other,  Othello^  we  have  also  an 
edition,  printed  indeed  after  the  author's  death,  but 
apparently  from  another  manuscript  than  that  used 
for  the  First  Folio.  For  the  remaining  eighteen 
Plays  our  oldest  authority  is  that  edition.  And  the 
only  other  sources  for  which  any  authority  has  been 
claimed  are,  i.  The  Second,  Third,  and  Fourth 
Folios  ;  2.  A  manuscript  of  the  First  Part  and  some 
portions  of  the  Second  Part  of  Henry  the  Pourth^ 
which  is  believed  to  be  nearly  of  Shakespeare's  age, 
and  of  which  an  impression  has  been  edited  by  Mr. 
Halliwell  for  the  Shakespeare  Society;  3.  The 
manuscript  emendations,  extending  over  all  the 
Plays,  with  the  exception  only  of  Pericles^  made  in 
a  handwriting  apparently  of  about  the  middle  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  in  a  copy  of  the  Second  Folio 
belonging  to  Mr.  Collier. 

None  of  these  copies  can  claim  to  be  regarded  as 
of  absolute  authority.  Even  the  least  carelessly 
printed  of  the  Qiiartos  which  appeared  in  Shake- 
speare's lifetime  are  one  and  all  deformed  by  too 
many  evident  and  universally  admitted  errors  to 
make  it  possible  for  us  to  believe  that  the  proofs 
underwent  either  his  own  revision  or  that  of  any 
attentive  editor  or  reader ;  it  may  be  doubted  if  in 
any  case  the  Play  was  even  set  up  from  the  author's 
manuscript.  In  many,  or  in  most,  cases  we  may 
affirm  with   confidence   that   it  certainly  was  not. 


12  Prolegomena. 

Some  of  these  Quartos  are  evidently  unauthorized 
publications,  hurriedly  brought  out,  and  founded 
probably  in  the  main  on  portions  of  the  dialogue 
fraudulently  furnished  by  the  actors,  with  the  lacunae 
filled  up  perhaps  from  notes  taken  by  reporters  in 
the  theatre. 

~The  First  Folio  (1623)  is  declared  on  the  title 
page  to  be  printed  "  according  to  the  true  original 
copies  ;  "  and  it  is  probable  that  for  most  of  the  Flays 
either  the  author's  autograph,  or,  at  any  rate,  some 
copy  belonging  to  the  theatre,  was  made  use  of.  The 
volume  was  put  forth  in  the  names  of  two  of  Shake- 
speare's friends  and  fellow-actors,  John  Heminge 
and  Henrie  Condell,  who  introduce  what  they  style 
"  these  trifles,"  the  "  remains "  of  their  deceased 
associate,  by  a  Dedication  to  the  Earls  of  Pembroke 
and  Montgomery,  —  who,  they  observe,  had  been 
pleased  to  think  the  said  trifles  something,  —  and  by 
a  Preface,  in  which,  after  confessing  that  it  would 
have  been  a  thing  to  be  wished  ''  that  the  author 
himself  had  lived  to  have  set  forth  and  overseen  his 
own  writings,"  they  desire  that  they,  his  sui-viving 
friends,  may  not  be  envied  the  oflice  of  their  care 
and  pains  in  collecting  and  publishing  them,  and  so 
publishing  them  as  that,  whereas  formerly,  they  con- 
tinue, addressing  the  Reader,  "you  were  abused 
with  divers  stolen  and  surreptitious  copies,  maimed 
and  deformed  by  the  frauds  and  stealths  of  injurious 
impostors  that  exposed  them  [that  is,  exposed  them 
for  sale,  or  published  them],  even  those  are  now 
oflcred  to  your  view  cured  and  perfect  of  their  limbs, 
and  all  the  rest  absolute  in  their  numbers,*  as  he 

*  This  Latinism  has  no  special  reference,  as  has  some- 
times been  supposed,  to  the  verse ;  it  means  merely  perfect 
in  all  their  parts,  or  in  all  respects.    So  Sir  Roger  Twysden, 


The  Old  Texts.  13 

conceived  them.  Who,  as  he  was  a  happy  imitator 
of  nature,  was  a  most  gentle  expresser  of  it :  his  mind 
and  hand  went  together ;  and  what  he  thought  he 
uttered  with  that  easiness,  that  we  have  scarce  re- 
ceived from  him  a  blot  in  his  papers." 

Here  we  have  certainly,  along  with  an  emphatic 
and  undiscriminating  condemnation  of  all  the  pre- 
ceding impressions,  a  distinct  declaration  by  the 
publishers  of  the  present  volume  that  they  had  the 
use  of  the  author's  manuscripts.  It  is  the  only  men- 
tion to  be  found  anywhere  of  any  of  the  Plays  being 
in  existence  in  his  own  handwriting.  No  doubt  can 
reasonably  be  entertained  that  such  of  his  papers  as 
were  in  possession  of  the  Blackfriars  Theatre,  to 
which  Heminge  and  Condcll,  like  himself,  belonged, 
were  placed  at  their  disposal.  And  we  may  assume 
that  from  these  the  edition  of  1633  was  set  up,  so  far 
as  they  went  and  could  be  made  available. 

But  it  would  be  a  great  straining  of  such  premises 
to  conclude  that  the  First  Folio  is  to  be  accepted 
throughout  as  anything  like  an  infallible  authority  in 
all  cases  for  what  Shakespeare  actually  wrote.  That 
would,  for  one  thing,  be  to  suppose  an  accuracy  and 
correctness  of  printing  and  editing  of  wliich  there  is 
no  example  in  the  published  popular  literature  of 
that  age,  least  of  all  in  the  drama,  which  was  hardly 
looked  upon  as  belonging  to  literature,  and  in  regard 
to  which  the  Press,  when  it  was  resorted  to,  was 
always  felt  to  be  at  best  but  an  imperfect  and  unnat- 
ural substitute  for  the  proper  mode  of  publication  by 
means  of  the  Stage.     The  writer,  it  would  seem  to 

in  the  Preface  to  his  "  Historije  Anglicanae  Scriptores  De- 
cern" (1652),  speaking  of  the  pains  that  had  been  taken  to 
insure  the  accuracy  of  the  text,  says,  "  Nihil  unquam  apud 
nos,  tanti  saltern  conaminis,  .  .  .  adeo  omnibus  numeris  ab- 
solutum  prodiisse  memini." 


14  Prolegomena. 

have  been  thought,  could  not  well  claim  as  a  work 
what  called  itself  only  a  flay.  Nor  do  the  publish- 
ers in  the  present  instance  make  profession  of  having 
bestowed  any  special  care  upon  the  editing  of  their 
volume ;  what  they  say  (or  more  probably  what 
some  regular  author  of  the  day,  Ben  Jonson,  as  it 
has  been  conjectured,  or  another,  had  been  got  to 
write  in  their  names)  is  nothing  more  than  the  sort 
of  recommendation  with  which  it  was  customary 
for  enlarged  and  improved  editions  to  be  introduced 
to  the  world,  and  the  only  positive  assertion  which 
it  can  be  held  to  involve  is,  that  the  new  impression 
of  the  Plays  had  been  set  up,  at  least  in  part,  from 
the  author's  own  manuscript.  They  lay  claim,  and 
we  may  therefore  be  sure  could  lay  claim,  to  nothing 
further.  They  even  admit,  as  we  have  seen,  that  it 
would  have  been  better  if  the  author  himself  had 
superintended  the  publication.  Of  correction  of  the 
press  there  is  not  one  word.  That,  we  may  be 
pretty  certain,  was  left  merely  to  the  printer.  It  is 
not  likely  that  the  two  players,  who,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  this  Dedication  and  Preface,  to  which  their 
names  are  attached,  are  quite  unknown  in  connec- 
tion with  literature,  were  at  all  qualified  for  such  a 
function,  which  is  not  one  to  be  satisfactorily  dis- 
charged even  by  persons  accustomed  to  writing  for 
the  press  without  some  practice. 

But  this  is  not  all.  The  materials  which  Heminge 
and  Condell,  or  whoever  may  have  taken  charge  of 
the  printing  of  the  First  Folio,  had  at  their  com- 
mand, were  very  possibly  insufficient  to  enable  them 
to  produce  a  perfect  text,  although  both  their  care 
and  their  competency  had  been  greater  than  they 
probably  were.  In  the  first  place,  there  is  nothing 
in  what  they  say  to  entitle  us  to  assume  that  they 


The  Old  Texts. 


15 


had  the  author's  own  manuscript  for  more  than  some 
of  the  Plays.  But,  further,  we  do  not  know  what 
may  have  been  the  state  of  such  of  his  papers  as 
were  in  their  hands.  We  are  told,  indeed,  that  they 
were  without  a  blot,  and  the  fact  is  an  interesting 
one  in  reference  to  Shakespeare's  habits  of  compo- 
sition ;  but  it  has  no  bearing  upon  the  claims  of  the 
text  of  this  First  Folio  to  be  accounted  a  correct 
representation  of  what  he  had  written.  He  had 
been  in  his  grave  for  seven  years ;  the  latest  of  the 
original  copies  of  the  Plays  were  of  that  antiquity 
at  the  least ;  most  of  them  must  have  been  much 
older.  If,  as  is  probable,  they  had  been  ever  since 
they  were  written  in  use  at  the  theatres,  it  can  hardly 
have  been  that  such  of  them  as  were  not  quite  worn 
out  should  not  have  suffered  more  or  less  of  injury, 
and  have  become  illegible,  or  legible  only  with  great 
difficulty,  in  various  passages.  Nor  may  the  hand- 
writing, even  when  not  partially  obliterated,  have 
been  very  easy  to  decipher.  The  very  rapidity  with 
which  the  poet's  "  thick-coming  fancies  "  had  been 
committed  to  the  paper  may  have  made  the  record 
of  them,  free  from  blots  as  it  was,  still  one  not  to  be 
read  running,  or  unlikely  to  trip  a  reader  to  whom  it 
was  not  familiar. 

When  we  take  up  and  examine  the  volume  itself, 
we  find  it  to  present  the  very  characteristics  which 
these  considerations  would  lead  us  to  expect.  As  a 
typographical  production  it  is  better  executed  than 
the  common  run  of  the  English  popular  printing  of 
that  date.  It  is  rather  superior,  for  instance,  in  point 
of  appearance,  and  very  decidedly  in  correctness,  to 
the  Second  Folio,  produced  nine  years  later.  Never- 
theless it  is  obviously,  to  the  most  cursory  inspection, 
very  far  from  what  would  now  be  called  even  a  tol- 


1 6  Prolegomena. 

erably  well  printed  book.  There  is  probably  not  a 
page  in  it  which  is  not  disfigured  by  many  minute 
inaccuracies  and  irregularities,  such  as  never  appear 
in  modern  printing.  The  punctuation  is  throughout 
rude  and  negligent,  even  where  it  is  not  palpably 
blundering.  The  most  elementary  proprieties  of 
the  metrical  arrangement  are  violated  in  innumer- 
able passages.  In  some  places  the  verse  is  printed 
as  plain  prose  ;  elsewhere,  prose  is  ignorantly  and 
ludicrously  exhibited  in  the  guise  of  verse.  Indis- 
putable and  undisputed  errors  are  of  frequent  occur- 
rence, so  gross  that  it  is  impossible  they  could  have 
been  passed  over,  at  any  rate  in  such  numbers,  if  the 
proof-sheets  had  undergone  any  systematic  revision 
by  a  qualified  person,  however  rapid.  They  were 
probably  read  in  the  printing-office,  with  more  or 
less  attention,  when  there  was  time,  and  often,  when 
there  was  any  hurry  or  pressure,  sent  to  press  with 
little  or  no  examination.  Everything  betokens  that 
editor  or  editing  of  the  volume,  in  any  proper  or 
distinctive  sense,  there  could  have  been  none.  The 
only  editor  was  manifestly  the  head  workman  in  the 
printing-office. 

On  closer  inspection,  we  detect  other  indications. 
In  one  instance,  at  least,  we  have  actually  the  names 
of  the  actors  by  whom  the  Play  was  performed  pre- 
fixed to  their  portions  of  the  dialogue  instead  of  those 
of  the  dramatis  personce.  Mr.  Knight,  in  noticing 
this  circumstance,  observes  that  it  shows  very  clearly 
the  text  of  the  Play  in  which  it  occurs  {Muck  Ado 
About  NotJmtg)  to  have  been  taken  from  the  play- 
house copy,  or  what  is  called  the  prompter's  book.* 
But  the  fact  is,  that  the  scene  in  question  is  given  in 

*  Library  Shakspere,  II.  366. 


The  Old  Texts.  17 

the  same  way  in  the  previous  Quarto  edition  of  the 
Play,  published  in  1600 ;  so  that  here  the  printers  of 
the  Folio  had  evidently  no  manuscript  of  any  kind 
in  their  hands,  any  more  than  they  had  any  one  over 
them  to  prevent  them  from  blindly  following  their 
printed  copy  into  the  most  transparent  absurdities. 
The  Quarto,  to  the  guidance  of  which  they  were 
left,  had  evidently  been  set  up  from  the  prompter's 
book,  and  the  proof-sheets  could  not  have  been  read 
either  by  the  author  or  by  any  other  competent  per- 
son. In  the  case  of  how  many  more  of  the  Plays 
the  Folio  in  like  manner  may  have  been  printed 
only  from  the  previously  published  separate  editions 
we  cannot  be  sure.  But  other  errors,  with  which 
the  volume  abounds,  are  evidence  of  something  more 
than  this.  In  addition  to  a  large  number  of  doubtful 
or  disputed  passages,  there  are  many  readings  in  it 
which  are  either  absolutely  unintelligible,  and  there- 
fore certainly  corrupt,  or,  although  not  purely  non- 
sensical, yet  clearly  wrong,  and  at  the  same  time 
such  as  are  hardly  to  be  sufficiently  accounted  for  as 
the  natural  mistakes  of  the  compositor.  Sometimes 
what  is  evidently  the  true  word  or  expression  has 
given  place  to  another  having  possibly  more  or  less 
resemblance  to  it  in  form,  but  none  in  signification ; 
in  other  cases,  what  is  indispensable  to  the  sense,  or 
to  the  continuity  and  completeness  of  the  dramatic 
narrative,  is  altogether  omitted.  Such  errors  and 
deficiencies  can  only  be  explained  on  the  supposition 
that  the  compositor  had  been  left  to  depend  upon  a 
manuscript  which  was  imperfect,  or  which  could 
not  be  read.  It  is  remarkable  that  deformities  of 
this  kind  are  apt  to  be  found  accumulated  at  one 
place ;  there  are  as  it  were  nests  or  eruptions  of 
them  ;  they  run  into  constellations  ;  showing  that  the 


1 8  Prolegomena. 

manuscript  had  there  got  torn  or  soiled,  and  that  the 
printer  had  been  obliged  to  supply  what  was  wanting 
in  the  best  way  that  he  could,  by  his  own  invention 
or  conjectural  ingenuity.* 

Of  the  other  Folio  editions,  the  Second,  dated 
1632,  is  the  only  one  the  new  readings  introduced  in 
which  have  ever  been  regarded  as  of  any  authority. 
But  nothing  is  known  of  the  source  from  which 
they  may  have  been  derived.  The  prevailing  opin- 
ion has  been  that  they  are  nothing  more  than  the  con- 
jectural emendations  of  the  unknown  editor.  Some 
of  them,  nevertheless,  have  been  adopted  in  every 
subsequent  reprint. 

The  manuscript  of  Henry  tJie  Fourth  (belonging 
to  Sir  Edward  Dering,  Bart.,  of  Surrenden  in  Kent) 
is  curious  and  interesting,  as  being  certainly  either 
of  Shakespeare's  own  age  or  close  upon  it,  and  as 
the  only  known  manuscript  copy  of  any  of  the  Plays 
of  nearly  that  antiquity.  But  it  appears  to  have 
been,  for  the  greater  part,  merely  transcribed  from 
some  printed  text,  with  such  omissions  and  modifi- 
cations as  were  deemed  expedient  in  reducing  the 
two  Plays    to    one.f      The  First    Part   of  Henry 

*  I  have  discussed  the  question  of  the  reliance  to  be  placed 
on  the  First  Folio  at  greater  length  in  an  article  on  The 
Text  of  Shakespeare,  in  the  40th  No.  of  the  North  British 
Review  {for  February,  1854).  It  is  there  shown,  from  an 
examination  of  the  First  Act  of  Macbeth,  that  the  number 
of  readings  in  the  First  Folio  (including  arrangements  of 
the  verse  and  punctuation  affecting  the  sense)  which  must 
be  admitted  to  be  either  clearly  wrong,  or  in  the  highest  de- 
gree suspicious,  probably  amounts  to  not  less  than  twenty  on 
an  average  per  page,  or  about  twenty  thousand  in  the  whole 
volume;  Most  of  them  have  been  given  up  and  abandoned 
even  by  those  of  the  modern  editors  who  profess  the  most 
absolute  deference  to  the  general  authority  of  the  text  in 
which  they  are  found. 

t  I  am  informed  by  a  friend,  upon  whose  accuracy  I  can 
rely,  that  a  collation  of  a  considerable  portion  of  the  MS. 


The  Old  Texts.  19 

tJie  Fourth  had  been  printed  no  fewer  than  five 
times,  and  the  Second  Part  also  once,  in  the  life- 
time of  the  author.  The  Dering  MS.,  however, 
exhibits  a  few  peculiar  readings.  .  .  . 

It  is  only  upon  the  supposition  of  the  old  text  of  the 
Plays  having  been  printed  from  a  partially  obliterated 
or  otherwise  imperfectly  legible  manuscript,  which,  as 
we  see,  meets  and  accounts  for  other  facts  and  peculiar 
appearances,  while  it  is  also  so  probable  in  itself, 
that  the  remarkable  collection  of  emendations  in  Mr. 
Collier's  copy  of  the  Second  Folio  can,  apparently, 
be  satisfactorily  explained.  The  volume  came  into 
Mr.  Collier's  hands  in  1849,  and  was  some  time  after- 
wards discovered  by  him  to  contain  a  vast  number  of 
alterations  of  the  printed  text  inserted  by  the  pen,  in 
a  handwriting  certainly  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
and  possibly  of  not  much  later  date  than  the  volume. 
They  extend  over  all  the  thirty-six  Plays,  and  are  cal- 
culated to  amount  in  all  to  at  least  twenty  thousand. 
Here  is,  then,  a  most  elaborate  revision  —  an  expen- 
diture of  time  and  painstaking  which  surely  could 
only  have  been  prompted  and  sustained  by  a  strong 
feeling  in  the  annotator  of  admiration  for  his  author, 
and  the  most  anxious  and  scrupulous  regard  for  the 
integrity  of  his  text.  Such  motives  would  be  very 
inconsistent  with  the  substitution  generally  for  the 
old  words  of  anything  that  might  merely  strike  him 
as  being  possibly  a  preferable  reading.  The  much 
more  probable  presumption  is  that  he  followed  some 
guide.  Such  a  labor  is  only  to  be  naturally  accounted 
for  by  regarding  it  as  that  of  the  possessor  of  a  valued 
but  very  inaccurately  printed  book,  who  had  obtained 

with  the  Quarto  of  1613  leaves  no  doubt  of  that  being  the 
printed  edition  on  which  it  was  formed. 


20  Prolegomena. 

the  means  of  collating  it  with  and  correcting  it  by  a 
trustworthy  manuscript.  And,  when  we  come  to 
examine  the  new  readings,  we  find  everything  in 
sufficient  correspondence  with  this  hypothesis  ;  some 
things  almost,  we  may  say,  demonstrating  it.  Some 
of  the  alterations  are  of  a  kind  altogether  transcend- 
ing the  compass  of  conjectural  emendation,  unless  it 
had  taken  the  character  of  pure  invention  and  fab- 
rication. Such  in  particular  are  the  entire  lines 
inserted  in  various  passages  of  which  we  have  not  a 
trace  in  the  printed  text.  The  number,  too,  of  the 
new  readings  which  cannot  but  be  allowed  to  be 
either  indisputable,  or,  at  the  least,  in  the  highest 
degree  ingenious  and  plausible,  is  of  itself  almost 
conclusive  against  our  attributing  them  to  nothing 
better  than  conjecture.  On  the  other  hand,  some  of 
his  alterations  are  in  all  probability  mistaken,  some 
of  his  new  readings  apparently  inadmissible,*  and 

*  Among  such  must  be  reckoned,  undoubtedly,  the  altera- 
tion,   in    Ladj^  Macbeth's  passionate   rejoinder   {Macbeth, 

What  beast  was't  then, 
That  made  you  break  this  enterprise  to  me?  — 

of  beast  into  boast.  This  is  to  convert  the  forcible  and 
characteristic  not  merely  into  tameness,  but  into  no-mean- 
ing; for  there  is  no  possible  sense  of  the  word  boast  which 
will  answer  here.  But  in  this  case  the  corrector  was  prob- 
ably left  to  mere  conjecture  in  making  his  selection  between 
the  two  woi'ds ;  for  in  the  handwriting  of  the  earlier  part  of 
the  seventeenth  century  the  e  and  o  are  frequently  absolutely 
undistinguishable.  In  the  specimen  of  the  annotator's  own 
handwriting  which  Mr.  Collier  gives,  the  two  e's  of  the 
word  briefely  are  as  like  t?'s  as  e's,  and  what  Mr.  Collier 
reads  bleeding  might  be  equally  well  read  blooding^  if  that 
were  a  word.  Would  Mr.  Collier  thus  correct  Tennyson's 
(Edivin  Morris), — 

Were  not  his  words  delicious,  I  a  beast 

To  take  them  as  I  did  } 

There  cannot,  I  conceive,  be  a  question  that  a  celebrated 


The  Old  Texts.  2I 

many  passages  which  there  can  hardly  be  a  doubt 
are  corrupt  are  passed  over  by  him  without  correc- 
tion. All  this  becomes  intelligible  upon  our  hypoth- 
esis. Working  possibly  upon  the  same  manuscripts 
(whether  those  of  the  author  or  not)  from  which  the 
printed  text  had  been  set  up,  he  would  with  mere 
deliberation,  or  by  greater  attention  and  skill,  suc- 
ceed in  deciphering  correctly  much  of  the  difficult 
or  faded  writing  which  had  baffled  or  been  misread 
by  the  printer.  In  other  places,  again,  he  was  able 
to  make  nothing  of  it,  or  it  deceived  him.  In  some 
cases  he  may  have  ventured  upon  a  conjecture,  and 
when  he  does  that  he  may  be  as  often  wrong  as 
right.  The  manuscripts  of  which  he  had  the  use  — 
whether  the  author's  original  papers  or  only  tran- 
scripts from  them  —  probably  belonged  to  the 
theatre ;  and  they  might  now  be  in  a  much  worse 
condition  in  some  j^arts  than  when  they  were  in  the 
hands  of  Hcminge  and  CondcU  in  1623.  The  an- 
notator  would  seem  to  have  been  connected  with  the 
stage.     The  numerous  and  minute  stage  directions 

passage  in  another  Play  has  been  seriously  injured  by 
the  same  mistake  which  the  annotator  has  made  in  the  in- 
stance under  consideration.  Is  it  not  self-evident  that  the 
speech  of  Polixenes  in  the  Third  Scene  of  the  Fourth  Act 
of  the  Winter's  Tale  should  run  as  follows?  — 

Nature  is  made  better  by  no  mean 
But  nature  makes  that  mean.     So  ever  that  art, 
Which  you  say  adds  to  nature,  is  an  art 
That  nature  makes.  .  .  . 
The  art  itself  is  nature. 

The  "o'er  that  art"  of  the  modern  editions  is  ^^  over  that 
art"  in  the  old  copies.  In  other  cases,  again,  the  ever  and 
the  evefi  have  evidently  been  confounded ;  as  in  The  Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor,  iv.  6,  where  Fenton  describes  Mrs.  Page 
as  "  even  strong  against"  the  marriage  of  her  daughter  with 
Slender,  "and  firm  for  Doctor  Caius."  The  error  here,  if  it 
be  one,  however,  has  apparently  been  left  uncorrected  by 
Mr.  Collier's  MS.  annotator. 


22  Prolegomena. 

which  he  has  inserted  look  as  if  it  might  have  been 
for  the  use  of  some  theatrical  Company,  and  mainly 
with  a  view  to   the   proper   representation   of  the 
Plays,    that  his  laborious  task  was  undertaken.* 
[For  a  concise  account  of  the  controversy  which 

*  I  do  not  remember  having  seen  it  noticed  that  the  thea- 
tres claimed  a  property  in  the  Plays  of  Shakespeare,  and 
affected  to  be  in  possession  of  the  authentic  copies,  down 
to  a  comparatively  recent  date.  The  following  Advertise- 
ment stands  prefixed  to  an  edition  of  Pericles,  in  i2mo, 
published  in  1734,  and  professing  to  be  "printed  for  J.  Ton- 
son,  and  the  rest  of  the  Proprietors  :  "  —  "  Whereas  R.  Walk- 
er, and  his  accomplices,  have  printed  and  published  several 
of  Shakespeare's  Plays,  and,  to  screen  their  innumerable 
errors,  advertise  that  they  are  printed  as  they  are  acted; 
and  industriously  report  that  the  said  Plays  are  printed  from 
copies  made  use  of  at  the  Theatres ;  I  therefore  declare,  in 
justice  to  the  Proprietors,  whose  right  is  basely  invaded,  as 
well  as  in  defence  of  myself,  that  no  person  ever  had,  directly 
or  indirectly,  from  me  any  such  copy  or  copies ;  neither 
would  I  be  accessary,  on  any  account,  to  the  imposing  on 
the  public  such  useless,  pirated,  and  maimed  editions,  as  are 
published  by  the  said  R.  Walker.  W.  Chetwood,  Prom;pter 
to  His  Majesty's  Cotn;pany  of  Comedians  at  the  Theatre 
Royal  in  Drury  Lane."  On  the  subject  of  this  Chetwood 
see  Mai  one's  Inquiry  into  the  Shakespeare  Papers.,  pp.  350 
— 352.  In  Tonson's  similar  editions  of  The  History  of  Sir 
yohfi  Oldcastle  and  The  Tragedy  of  Locrine  (both  declared 
on  the  title  page  to  be  "By  Mr.  William  Shakespear"),  he 
speaks  in  like  manner  of  himself  "  and  the  other  Proprietors 
of  the  Copies  of  Shakespear's  Plays,"  and  complains  that 
"one  Walker  has  proposed  to  pirate  all  Shakespear's  Plays, 
but  through  ignorance  of  what  Plays  were  Shakespear's,  did 
in  several  Advertisements  propose  to  print  CEdipus  King  of 
Thebes  as  one  of  Shakespear's  Plays,  and  has  since  printed 
Tate's  King  Lear  instead  of  Shakespear's,  and  in  that  and 
Hamlet  has  omitted  almost  one  half  of  the  genuine  editions 
printed  by  J.  Tonson  and  the  Proprietors."  It  would  appear 
from  Nichols's  Illustrations,  II.  199,  that  Theobald,  in  the 
Preface  to  the  Second  Edition  of  his  Play  of  The  Double 
Falsehood,  which  he  pretended  was  written  by  Shakespeare, 
spoke  of  private  property  perhaps  standing  so  far  in  his  way 
as  to  prevent  him  from  putting  out  a  complete  edition  of 
Shakespeare's  Works.  The  passage,  which  does  not  occur 
in  the  first  edition  (1728),  is  retained  in  the  third  (1767). 


Editors  and  Commentators.  23 

the  Collier  Folio  has  caused,  and  a  veiy  satisfactory- 
review  of  the  results,  see  White's  Shakespeare,  vol. 
i.  pp.  cclxxx-ccxcvi.] 

IV.    THE  SHAKESPEARIAN  EDITORS  AND 
COMMENTATORS. 

The  four  Folios  w^ere  the  only  editions  of  the  Plays 
of  Shakespeare  brought  out  in  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury ;  and,  except  that  the  First,  as  we  have  seen, 
has  a  Dedication  and  Preface  signed  by  Heminge 
and  Condell,  two  actors  belonging  to  the  Blackfriars 
Theatre,  nothing  is  known,  and  scarcely  anything 
has  been  conjectured,  as  to  what  superintendence 
any  of  them  may  have  had  in  passing  through  the 
press.  The  eighteenth  century  produced  a  long  suc- 
cession of  editors:  —  Rowe,  1709  and  1714;  Pope, 
1735  and  1728  ;  Theobald,  1733  and  1740;  Hanmer, 
1744;  Warburton,  1747;  Johnson,  1765;  Steevens, 
1766;  Capell,  1768;  Reed,  1785;  Malone,  1790; 
Rann,  1 786-1 794.  The  editions  of  Hanmer,  John- 
son, Steevens,  Malone,  and  Reed  were  also  all 
reprinted  once  or  oftener,  for  the  most  part  with 
enlargements ;  and  all  the  notes  of  the  preceding 
editions  were  at  last  incorporated  in  what  is  called 
Reed's  Second  Edition  of  Johnson  and  Steevens, 
which  appeared,  in  twenty-one  volumes  8vo,  in 
1803.  This  was  followed  in  1821  by  what  is  now 
the  standard  Variorum  edition,  also  in  twenty-one 
volumes,  which  had  been  mostly  prepared  by  Ma- 
lone, and  was  completed  and  carried  through  the 
press  by  his  friend  Mr.  James  Boswell.  We  have 
since  had  the  various  editions  of  Mr.  Knight  and 
Mr.  Collier,  from  both  of  whom,  in  addition  to  other 
original  research  and  speculation,  both  bibliographi- 


24  Prolegomena. 

cal  and  critical,  we  have  received  the  results  of  an 
examination  of  the  old  texts  more  careful  and  ex- 
tended than  they  had  previously  been  subjected  to. 
New  critical  editions  by  the  late  Mr.  Singer,  by  Mr. 
Staunton,  and  by  Mr.  Dyce,  have  also  appeared  with- 
in the  last  few  years ;  and  there  are  in  course  of 
publication  the  Cambridge  edition  by  Mr.  Clark  and 
Mr.  Wright  [completed  Sept.,  1866],  and  the  mag- 
nificent edition  by  Mr.  Halliwell,  which  is  to  extend 
to  twenty  volumes  folio.  [Of  American  editions 
may  be  mentioned  that  by  the  Hon.  Gulian  C.  Ver- 
planck,  three  vols.,  1847  5  ^^^^*  ^Y  R^v.  Henry  N. 
Hudson,  eleven  vols.,  1855  ;  and  that  by  Mr.  Rich- 
ard Grant  White,  twelve  vols.,  1857-1865.] 

The  list  of  commentators,  however,  includes  sev- 
eral other  names  besides  those  of  the  editors  of  the  , 
entire  collection  of  Plays ;  in  particular,  Upto7i^  in 
"  Critical  Observations,"  1746;  Dr.  Zachary  Grey., 
in  ''  Critical,  Historical,  and  Explanatory  Notes," 
1755  ;  Heathy  in  "A  Revisal  of  Shakespear's  Text," 
1765  ;  Kenrick.,  in  a  "  Review  of  Johnson's  Edition," 
1765,  and  "  Defence  of  Review,"  1766  ;  Tyrwhitt.,  in 
"  Observations  and  Conjectures,"  1766  ;  Dr.  Richard 
Partner.,  in  ''  Essay  on  the  Leai'ning  of  Shake- 
speare," 1 767  ;  Charles  yennens^  in  annotated  edi- 
tions of  "King  Lear,"  1770,  —  "Othello,"  1773, — 
"  Hamlet,"  1773,  —  "  Macbeth,"  1773,  — and  "Julius 
C^sar,"  1774  ;  yohn  Monck  Mason.,  in  "  Comments 
on  the  Last  Edition  of  Shakespeare's  Plays,"  1785, 
and  "  Further  Observations,"  1798;  A.  Beckett.,  in 
"A  Concordance  to  Shakespeare,  to  which  are  added 
three  hundred  Notes  and  Illustrations,"  1787  ;  Ritson 
in  ["  Remarks  Critical  and  Illustrative  on  the  Text 
and  Notes  of  the  last*  Edition  of  Shakespeare,"  1783], 

*  Steevens's. 

y 


The  Modern  Texts.  25 

«'The  Quip  Modest"  [1788],  and  "Cursory  Criti- 
cisms," 1792  ;  Whiter^  in  "  A  Specimen  of  a  Com- 
mentary," 1794;  George  Chalmers^  in  "Apology  for 
the  Believers  in  the  Shakespearian  Papers,"  1797,  and 
"  Supplemental  Apology,"  1799;  Douce^  in  "Illus- 
trations of  Shakespeare  and  of  Ancient  Manners," 
1807 ;  Reverend  Joseph  Hunter^  in  "  Illustra- 
tions of  the  Life,  Studies,  and  Writings  of  Shake- 
speare," 1844 »  ^'^^  Reverend  Alexander  Dyce^  in 
"  Remarks  on  Mr.  Collier's  and  Mr.  Knight's  Edi- 
tions," 1844,  and  "  A  Few  Notes  on  Shakespeare," 
1853.  To  these  names  and  titles  may  be  added  the 
Reverend  Samuel  Ayscough! s  "  Index  to  the  Re- 
markable Passages  and  Words  made  use  of  by 
Shakespeare,"  1790  ;  "  A  Complete  Verbal  Index  to 
the  Plays  of  Shal^espeare,"  in  two  vols.,  by  Francis 
Twzss^  Esq.^  1805 ;  and  Mrs,  Cowden  Clarke's 
"  Complete  Concordance  to  Shakspere,"  1847.  ■^^" 
nally,  there  may  be  mentioned  Archdeacon  Narcs^s 
"  Glossary  of  Words,  etc.,  thought  to  require  Illus- 
ti'ation  in  Shakespeare  and  his  Contemporaries," 
1822.  [Of  this  valuable  work  a  new  edition  with 
many  additions  both  of  words  and  examples,  by  J. 
O.  Halliwell  and  Thos.  Wright,  appeared  in  1859.] 

V.    THE  MODERN  SHAKESPEARIAN  TEXTS. 

No  modern  editor  has  reprinted  the  Plays  of  Shake- 
speare exactly  as  they  stand  in  any  of  the  old  Folios 
or.Qiiartos.  Neither  the  spelling,  nor  the  punctua- 
tion, nor  the  words  of  any  ancient  copy  have  been 
retained  unaltered,  even  with  the  correction  of  obvi- 
ous errors  of  the  Press.  It  has  been  universally 
admitted  by  the  course  that  has  been  followed  that 
a  genuine  text  is  not  to  be  obtained  without  more  or 


/ 


26  Prolegomena. 

less  of  conjectural  emendation :  the  only  difference 
has  been  as  to  the  extent  to  which  it  should  be  car- 
ried. The  most  recent  texts,  however,  beginning 
with  that  of  Malone,  and  more  especially  those  of 
Mr.  Knight  and  of  Mr.  Collier  (in  his  eight  volume 
edition),  have  been  formed  upon  the  principle  of 
adhering  to  the  original  copies  as  closely  as  possible  ; 
and  they  have  given  us  back  many  old  readings  which 
had  been  rejected  by  preceding  editors.  There  has 
been  some  difference  of  opinion  among  editors  of 
the  modern  school  in  regard  to  whether  the  prefer- 
ence should  be  given  in  certain  cases  to  the  First 
Folio  or  to  some  previous  Qiiarto  impression  of  the 
Play  produced  in  the  lifetime  of  the  author ;  and 
Steevens  latterly,  in  opposition  to  Malone,  who  had 
originally  been  his  coadjutor,  set  up  the  doctrine  that 
the  Second  Folio  was  a  safer  guide  than  the  First. 
This  heresy,  however,  has  probably  now  been  aban- 
doned by  everybody. 

But,  besides  the  correction  of  what  are  believed  to 
be  errors  of  the  Press  in  the  old  copies,  the  text  of 
Shakespeare  has  been  subjected  to  certain  modifica- 
tions in  all  the  modern  reprints  :  — 

1.  The  spelling  has  been  reduced  to  the  modern 
standard.  The  original  spelling  is  certainly  no  part 
of  the  composition.  There  is  no  reason  to  believe 
that  it  is  even  Shakespeare's  own  spelling.  In  all 
probability  it  is  merely  that  of  the  person  who  set  up 
the  types.  Spenser  may  be  suspected  to  have  had 
some  peculiar  notions  upon  the  subject  of  orthogra- 
phy ;  but,  apparently,  it  was  not  a  matter  about 
which  Shakespeare  troubled  himself.  In  departing 
from  the  original  editions  here,  therefore,  we  lose 
nothing  that  is  really  his. 

2.  The  actual  form  of  the  word  in  certain  cases 


The  Modern  Texts.  27 

has  been  modernized.  This  deviation  is  not  so 
clearly  defensible  upon  principle,  but  the  change  is 
so  slight,  and  the  convenience  and  advantage  so  con- 
siderable, that  it  may  fairly  be  held  to  be  justifiable 
nevertheless  on  the  ground  of  expediency.  The  case 
of  most  frequent  occurrence  is  that  of  the  w^ord 
than^  which  with  Shakespeare,  as  generally  with  his 
contemporaries  and  predecessors,  is  always  then. 
"Greater  then  a  king"  would  be  intolerable  to  the 
modern  ear.  Then  standing  in  this  position  is  there- 
fore quietly  converted  by  all  the  modern  editors  into 
our  modern  than.  Another  form  which  was  un- 
questionably part  of  the  regular  phraseology  and 
grammar  of  his  day  is  what  is  sometimes  described 
as  the  conjunction  of  a  plural  nominative  with  a 
singular  verb,  but  is  really  only  a  peculiar  mode  of 
inflecting  the  verb,  by  which  the  plural  is  left  undis- 
tinguished from  the  singular.  Shakespeare  and  his 
contemporaries,  although  they  more  usually  said,  as 
we  do,  "  words  sometimes  give  offence,"  held  them- 
selves entitled  to  say  also,  if  they  chose,  "  words 
sometimes  gives  offence."  But  here  again  so  much 
offence  would  be  given  by  the  antiquated  phraseolo- 
gy to  the  modern  ear,  accustomed  to  such  an  appar- 
ent violation  of  concord  only  from  the  most  illiterate 
lips,  that  the  detrimental  s  has  been  always  sup- 
pressed in  the  modern  editions,  except  only  in  a  few 
instances  in  which  it  happens  to  occur  as  an  indis- 
pensable element  of  the  rhyme  —  as  when  Macbeth^ 
in  his  soliloquy  before  going  in  to  murder  the  sleep- 
ing King  (ii.  i),  says,— 

Whiles  I  threat  he  lives  : 
Words  to  the  heat  of  deeds  too  cold  breath  gives  ; 

or,  as  when  Romeo  says  to  Friar  Lawrence  (ii.  3), 


28  Prolegomena. 

Both  our  remedies 
Within  thy  help  and  holy  physic  lies. 

A  few  contractions  also,  such  as  upon^t^  orHs  head, 
etc.,  which  have  now  become  too  vulgarized  for 
composition  of  any  elevation,  are  usually  neglected 
in  constructing  the  modern  text,  and  without  any 
appreciable  injury  to  its  integrity. 

3.  In  some  few  cases  the  editors  have  gone  the 
length  of  changing  even  the  word  which  Shake- 
speare may  very  possibly  have  written,  or  which 
may  probably  have  stood  in  the  manuscript  put  into 
the  hands  of  the  original  printers,  when  it  has  been 
held  to  be  palpably  or  incontrovertibly  wrong.  In 
Julius  Ccesar^  for  instance  (ii.  i),  they  have  upon 
this  principle  changed  "  the  Jirst  of  March  "  into 
"  the  zdes  of  March"  (149),  and  afterwards  ^^  fifteen 
days"  into  ^''fourteen  days"  (154).  It  is  evident, 
however,  that  alterations  of  this  kind  ought  to  be 
very  cautiously  made. 

VI.  THE  MECHANISM  OF  ENGLISH  VERSE,  AND 
THE  PROSODY  OF  THE  PLAYS  OF  SHAKE- 
SPEARE. 

The  mechanism  of  verse  is  a  thing  altogether  dis- 
tinct from  the  music  of  verse.  The  one  is  matter 
of  rule,  the  other  of  taste  and  feeling.  No  rules 
can  be  given  for  the  production  of  music,  or  of  the 
musical,  any  more  than  for  the  production  of  poetry, 
or  the  poetical. 

The  law  of  the  mechanical  construction  of  verse 
is  common  to  verse  of  every  degree  of  musical  qual- 
ity,—  to  the  roughest  or  harshest  (provided  it  be 
verse  at  all),  as  well  as  to  the  smoothest  and  sweet- 
est. Music  is  not  an  absolute  necessity  of  verse. 
There  are  cases  in  which  it  is  not  even  an  excellence 


The  Verse.  29 

or  desirable  ingredient.  Verse  is  sometimes  the 
more  effective  for  being  unmusical.  The  mechani- 
cal law  or  form  is  universally  indispensable.  It  is 
tliat  w^hich  constitutes  the  verse.  It  may  be  regarded 
as  the  substance  ;  musical  character,  as  the  accident 
or  ornament. 

In  every  language  the  principle  of  the  law  of 
verse  undoubtedly  lies  deep  in  the  nature  of  the  lan- 
guage. In  all  modern  European  languages,  at  least, 
it  is  dependent  upon  the  system  of  accentuation  es- 
tablished in  the  language,  and  would  probably  be 
found  to  be  modified  in  each  case  according  to  the 
peculiarities  of  the  accentual  system.  In  so  far  as 
regards  these  languages,  verse  may  be  defined  to 
consist  in  a  certain  arrangement  of  accented  and 
unaccented  syllables. 

The  Plays  of  Shakespeare  are  all,  with  the  excep- 
tion only  of  occasional  couplets,  in  unrhymed  or 
what  is  called  Blank  verse.  This  form  of  verse  was 
first  exemplified  in  English  in  a  translation  of  the 
Fourth  Book  of  the  -^neid  by  the  unfortunate  Lord 
Surrey,  who  was  executed  in  1547  ;  it  was  first  em- 
ployed in  dramatic  writing  by  Thomas  Sackville 
(afterwards  Lord  Buckhurst  and  Earl  of  Dorset)  in 
his  Gorboduc  (or  JRe?'rcx  and  Porrcx)^  produced  in 
1561  ;  and,  although  not  much  used  in  poetical  com- 
positions of  any  other  kind,  either  translated  or  origi- 
nal, till  Milton  brought  it  into  reputation  by  his 
Paradise  Lost  in  the  latter  part  of  the  following 
century,  it  had  come  to  be  the  established  or  cus- 
tomary verse  for  both  tragedy  and  comedy  before 
Shakespeare  began  to  w^ite  for  the  stage.  Our  only 
legitimate  English  Blank  verse  is  that  commonly 
called  the  Heroic,  consisting  normally  in  a  succes- 
sion of  five  feet  of  two  syllables  each,  with   the 


30  Prolegomena. 

pressure  of  the  voice,  or  accent,  on  the  latter  of  the 
two,  or,  in  other  words,  on  the  second,  fourth,  sixth, 
eighth,  and  tenth  syllables  of  each  line.  After  the 
tenth  syllable,  an  unaccented  syllable,  or  even  two, 
may  be  added  without  any  prosodical  effect.  The 
rhythm  is  completed  with  the  tenth  syllable,  and 
what  follows  is  only  as  it  were  a  slight  reverberation 
or  echo. 

But  this  general  statement  is  subject  to  certain  im- 
portant modifications :  — 

1.  In  any  of  the  feet  an  accent  on  the  first  syllable 
may  be  substituted  for  one  on  the  second,  providing 
it  be  not  done  in  two  adjoining  feet.  This  transfer- 
ence of  the  accent  is  more  unusual  in  certain  of  the 
feet  than  in  others  —  most  of  all  in  the  fifth,  next  to 
that  in  the  second  ;  —  but  is  not  in  any  foot  a  viola- 
tion of  the  law  of  the  verse,  or  what  is  properly  to 
be  called  a  license. 

2.  It  is  a  universal  law  of  English  verse,  that  any 
syllable  whatever,  falling  in  the  place  of  the  accent 
either  immediately  before  or  immediately  after  a  foot 
of  which  one  of  the  syllables  is  truly  accented,  will 
be  accounted  to  be  accented  for  the  purposes  of  the 
verse.  The  -my  of  enemy ^  for  instance,  or  the  in-  of 
intercept^  is  always  so  accounted  in  heroic  verse,  in 
virtue  of  the  true  accent  upon  en-  and  upon  -cepf ; 
but  in  dactylic  or  anapjEstic  verse,  these  syllables, 
although  pronounced  precisely  in  the  same  manner, 
are  always  held  to  be  unaccented,  the  law  of  those 
kinds  of  verse  not  requiring  another  accent  within 
the  distance  at  which  the  -7ny  stands  removed  from 
the  en-^  or  the  in-  from  the  -cept.  This,  in  so  far  as 
regards  the  heroic  line,  is  equivalent  to  saying  that 
every  alternate  foot  may  be  without  a  really  accented 
syllable  in  it  at  all.     Or  the  line  might  be  defined  as 


The  Verse.  31 

consisting,  not  of  five  feet  of  two  syllables  each,  with 
one  of  them  accented,  but  of  two  and  a  half  feet, 
each  of  four  syllables,  with  at  least  one  of  the  four 
accented ;  the  half  foot,  which  need  not  have  an 
accent,  occurring  sometimes  at  the  beginning  of  the 
line,  sometimes  in  the  middle,  sometimes  at  the  end. 
Practically,  the  effect  is,  that  anywhere  in  the  line 
we  may  have  a  sequence  of  three  syllables  (none  of 
them  being  superfluous)  without  any  accent ;  and 
that  there  is  no  word  in  the  language  (such  as  Hor- 
ace was  plagued  with  in  Latin)  quod  versu  dicere 
non  est^  —  none,  whether  proper  name  or  whatever 
else,  which  the  verse  does  not  readily  admit. 

3.  It  is  by  no  means  necessary  (though  it  is  com- 
monly stated  or  assumed  to  be  so)  that  the  syllables 
alternating  with  the  accented  ones  should  be  unac- 
cented.    Any  or  aj]  of  them  may  be  accented  also. 

4.  Further,  in  any  of  the  places  which  may  be 
occupied  by  an  unaccented  syllable  it  is  scarcely 
an  irregularity  to  introduce  two  or  even  more  such 
unaccented  syllables.  The  effect  may  be  compared 
to  the  prolongation  or  dispersion  of  a  note  in  music 
by  what  is  called  a  shake.  Of  course,  such  a  con- 
struction of  verse  is  to  be  resorted  to  sparingly  and 
only  upon  special  grounds  or  occasions ;  employed 
habitually,  or  very  frequently,  it  crowds  and  cumbers 
the  rhythm,  and  gives  it  a  quivering  and  feeble  char- 
acter. But  it  can  nowhere  be  said  to  be  illegiti- 
mate,—  although,  in  ordinary  circumstances,  it  may 
have  a  less  agreeable  effect  in  some  places  of  the  line 
than  in  others. 

These  four  modifications  of  its  normal  structure 
are  what,  along  with  the  artistic  distribution  of  the 
pauses  and  cadences,  principally  give  its  variety, 
freedom,  and  life  to  our  Heroic  verse.     They  are 


32  Prolegomena. 

what  the  intermixture  of  dactyls  and  spondees  is  to 
the  Greek  or  Latin  Hexameter.  They  are  none  of 
them  of  the  nature  of  what  is  properly  denominated 
a  poetic  license,  which  is  not  a  modification  but  a 
violation  of  the  rule,  permissible  only  upon  rare 
occasions,  and  altogether  anarchical  and  destructive 
when  too  frequently  committed.  The  first  three  of  our 
four  modifications  are  taken  advantage  of  habitually 
and  incessantly  by  every  writer  of  verse  in  the  lan- 
guage ;  and  the  fourth,  to  a  greater  or  less  extent,  at 
least  by  nearly  all  our  blank  verse  poets. 

So  much  cannot  be  said  for  another  form  of  verse 
(if  it  is  to  be  so  called)  which  has  also  been  sup- 
posed to  be  found  in  Shakespeare  ;  that,  namely,  in 
which  a  line,  evidently  perfect  both  at  the  beginning 
and  the  end,  wants  a  syllable  in  the  middle.  Such, 
for  instance,  is  the  well-known  line  in  Measure  for 
Measure^  ii.  2,  as  it  stands  in  the  First  Folio,  — 
Than  the  soft  myrtle.     But  man,  proud  man. 

Here,  it  will  be  observed,  we  have  not  a  hemistich 
(by  which  we  mean  any  portion  of  a  verse  per- 
fect so  far  as  it  extends,  whether  it  be  the  com- 
mencing or  concluding  portion),  but  something 
which  professes  to  be  a  complete  verse.  The  pres- 
ent is  not  merely  a  truncated  line  of  nine  syllables, 
or  one  where  the  defect  consists  in  the  want  of  either 
the  first  or  the  last  syllable ;  the  defect  here  would 
not  be  cured  by  any  addition  to  either  the  beginning 
or  the  end  of  the  line  ;  the  syllable  that  is  wanting  is 
in  the  middle. 

The  existing  text  of  the  Plays  presents  us  with  a 
considerable  number  of  verses  of  this  description. 
In  many  of  these,  in  all  probability,  the  text  is  cor- 
rupt; the  wanting  syllable,  not  being  absolutely 
indispensable  to  the    sense,  has   been  dropped  out 


The  Verse.  33 

in  the  copying  or  setting  up  by  some  one  (a  com- 
mon case)  not  much  alive  to  the  demands  of  the 
prosody.  The  only  other  solution  of  the  difficulty 
that  has  been  offered  is,  that  we  have  a  substitute 
for  the  omitted  syllable  in  a  fause  by  which  the 
reading  of  the  line  is  to  be  broken.  This  notion 
appears  to  have  received  the  sanction  of  Coleridge. 
But  I  cannot  think  that  he  had  fully  considered  the 
matter.  It  is  certain  that  in  no  verse  of  Coleridge's 
own  does  any  mere  pause  ever  perform  the  function 
which  would  thus  be  assigned  to  it.  Nor  is  any  such 
principle  recognized  in  any  other  English  verse, 
modern  or  ancient,  of  which  we  have  a  text  that 
can  be  absolutely  relied  upon.  It  is  needless  to 
observe,  that  both  in  Shakespeare  and  in  all  our 
other  writers  of  verse,  we  have  abundance  of  lines 
broken  by  pauses  of  all  lengths  without  any  such 
effect  being  thereby  produced  as  is  here  assumed. 
If  the  pause  be  really  equivalent  to  a  syllable,  how 
happens  it  that  it  is  not  so  in  every  case  ?  But  that 
it  should  be  so  in  any  case  is  a  doctrine  to  which  I 
should  have  the  greatest  difficulty  in  reconciling 
myself.  How  is  it  possible,  by  any  length  of  pause, 
to  bring  anything  like  rhythm  out  of  the  above  quoted 
words,  — 

Than  the  soft  myrtle.     But  man,  proud  man  ? 

If  this  be  verse,  there  is  nothing  tliat  may  not  be  so 
designated. 

I  should  be  inclined  to  say,  that,  wherever  there 
seems  to  be  no  reason  for  suspecting  the  loss  of  a 
syllable,  we  ought  in  a  case  of  this  sort  to  regard  the 
words  as  making  not  one  line,  but  two  hemistichs, 
or  truncated  lines.  Thus,  the  passage  in  Measure 
for  Measure  would  stand  — 

3 


34  Prolegomena. 

Merciful  heaven ! 

Thou  rather,  with  thj  sharp  and  sulphurous  bolt, 

Splitt'st  the  unwedgeable  and  gnarled  oak 

Than  the  soft  myrtle. 

But  man,  proud  man, 

Dress'd  in  a  little  brief  authority :  etc. 

This  is  nothing  more  than  what  has  been  done  with 
the  words  "  Merciful  heaven ! "  which  all  the  mod- 
ern editors  print  as  a  hemistich,  but  which  both  in 
the  First  Folio  and  in  all  the  others  are  made  to 
form  a  line  with  the  words  that  immediately  pre- 
cede ;  thus :  — 

Nothing  but  thunder :  Mercifull  heauen. 

What  mainly  gives  its  character  to  the  English 
Heroic  line  is  its  being  poised  upon  the  tenth  syl- 
lable. It  is  by  this,  as  well  as  by  the  number  of  feet, 
that  its  rhythm  or  musical  flow  is  distinguished,  for 
instance,  from  that  of  what  is  called  the  Alexan- 
drine, or  line  of  twelve  syllables,  the  characteristic 
of  which  is  that  the  pressm*e  is  upon  the  sixth  and 
the  twelfth.  Without  this  twelve  sjdlables  will  no 
more  make  an  Alexandrine  than  they  will  a  common 
Heroic  line.  There  are  in  fact  many  Heroic  lines 
consisting  of  twelve  syllables,  but  still,  nevertheless, 
resting  upon  the  tenth. 

It  follows  that  generally  in  this  kind  of  verse  the 
tenth  syllable  will  be  strongly  accented.  That  is  the 
normal  form  of  the  line.  When  there  is  rhyme,  the 
consonance  is  always  in  the  tenth  syllable.  As,  how- 
ever, in  dancing  (which  is  a  kind  of  visible  verse, — 
the  poetry  of  motion,  as  it  has  been  called),  or  in 
architecture  (which  is  another  kind,  and  may  be 
styled  the  visible  poetry  of  repose),  the  pressure 
upon  that  which  really  sustains  is  sometimes  sought 
to  be  concealed,  or  converted  into  the  semblance  of 


The  Verse.  35 

its  opposite,  and  the  limb  or  the  pillar  made  to 
appear  to  be  rather  drawn  towards  the  ground  than 
resting  upon  it,  so  in  word-poetry  too  we  have  occa- 
sionally the  exhibition  of  a  similar  feat.  Instead  of 
a  strongly  accented  syllable,  one  taking  only  a  very 
slight  accent,  or  none  at  all,  is  made  to  fill  the  tenth 
place.  One  form,  indeed,  of  this  peculiarity  of  sti-uc- 
ture  is  extremely  common,  and  is  resorted  to  by  all 
our  poets  as  often  for  mere  convenience  as  for  any 
higher  pui-pose,  that,  namely,  in  which  the  weak 
tenth  syllable  is  the  termination  of  a  word  of  which 
the  syllable  having  the  accent  has  already  done  duty 
in  its  proper  place  in  the  preceding  foot.  It  is  in 
this  vsray  that,  both  in  our  blank  and  in  our  rhymed 
verse,  the  large  classes  of  words  ending  in  -ing^ 
-ness^  -ment^  -y^  etc.,  and  accented  on  the  antepenul- 
timate, are  made  available  in  concluding  so  many 
lines.  The  same  thing  happens  when  we  have  at 
the  end  of  the  line  a  short  or  unaccented  monosylla- 
ble which  either  coalesces  like  an  enclitic  with  the 
preceding  word,  or  at  least  belongs  to  the  same 
clause  of  the  expression ;  as  in  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher*s 

By  my  dear  father's  soul,  you  stir  not,  Sir  I 

{Humorous  Lieutenant^  it.  2) ; 
or, 

And  yields  all  thanks  to  me  for  that  dear  care 
Which  I  was  bound  to  have  in  training  you. 

{King-  and  No  Kinff,  ii.) 

But  another  case  is  more  remarkable. 

This  is  when  the  weak  or  unaccented  tenth  syl- 
lable is  neither  the  final  syllable  of  a  word  the  ac- 
cented syllable  of  which  has  already  done  service  in 
the  preceding  foot,  nor  in  any  way  a  part  of  the 
came  clause  of  the  expression  to  which  that  foot 


$6  Prolegomena. 

belongs,  but  a  separate  monosyllabic  word,  fre- 
quently one,  such  as  and,  but,  if,  or,  of,  even  the, 
or  a,  or  an,  among  the  slightest  and  most  rapidly 
uttered  in  the  language,  and  belonging  syntactically 
and  in  natural  utterance  to  the  succeeding  line.  We 
may  be  said  to  have  the  strongest  or  most  illustrious 
exemplifications  of  this  mode  of  versifying  in  the 

Labitur  ripa,  Jove  non  probante,  u- 
xorius  amnis, 
and  other  similar  exhibitions  of  "  linked  sweetness  " 
in  Horace,  Pindar,  and  the  Greek  dramatists  in  their 
choral  passages  (if  we  may  accept  the  common  ar- 
rangement),—  to  say  nothing  of  sundry  modern 
imitations  in  the  same  bold  style,  even  in  our  own 
vernacular,  which  need  not  be  quoted.  Such  a  con- 
struction of  verse,  however,  when  it  does  not  go  the 
length  of  actually  cutting  a  word  in  two,  is  in  perfect 
accordance  with  the  principles  of  our  English  pro- 
sodical  system ;  for,  besides  that  the  and,  or,  of,  or 
2/*  is  not  really  a  slighter  syllable  than  the  termination 
-ty  or  -ly,  for  instance,  which  is  so  frequently  found 
in  the  same  position,  these  and  other  similar  mono- 
syllables are  constantly  recognized,  under  the  second 
of  the  above  laws  of  modification,  as  virtually  ac- 
cented for  the  purposes  of  the  verse  in  other  places 
of  the  line.  Still  when  a  syllable  so  slight  meets  us 
in  the  place  where  the  normal,  natural,  and  custom- 
ar}'  rhythm  demands  the  greatest  pressure,  the  effect 
is  always  somewhat  startling.  This  unexpectedness 
of  effect,  indeed,  may  be  regarded  as  in  many  cases 
the  end  aimed  at,  and  that  which  prompts  or  recom- 
mends the  construction  in  question.  And  it  does 
undoubtedly  produce  a  certain  variety  and  liveliness. 
It  is  fittest,  therefore,  for  the  lighter  kinds  of  poetry. 
It  is  only  there  that  it  can,  without  impropriety,  be 


The  Verse.  37 

made  a  characteristic  of  the  verse.  It  partakes  too 
much  of  the  nature  of  a  trick  or  a  deception  to  be 
employed  except  sparingly  in  poetry  of  the  manliest 
or  most  massive  order.  Yet  there  too  it  may  be  in- 
troduced now  and  then  with  the  happiest  effect,  more 
especially  in  the  drama,  where  variety  and  vivacity 
of  style  are  so  much  more  requisite  than  rhythmical 
fulness  or  roundness,  and  the  form  of  dialogue, 
always  demanding  a  natural  ease  and  freedom,  will 
justify  even  irregularities  and  audacities  of  expression 
which  might  be  rejected  by  the  more  stately  march 
of  epic  composition.  It  has  something  of  the  same 
bounding  life  which  Ulysses  describes  Diomed  as 
showing  in  "the  manner  of  his  gait:"  — 

He  rises  on  the  toe  :  that  spirit  of  his 
In  aspiration  lifts  him  from  the  earth. 

Two  things  are  observable  with  regard  to  Shake- 
speare's employment  of  this  peculiar  construction 
of  verse :  — 

I.  It  will  be  found,  upon  an  examination  of  his 
Plays,  that  there  are  some  of  them  in  which  it  occurs 
very  rarely,  or  perhaps  scarcely  at  all,  and  others  in 
which  it  is  abundant.  It  was  certainly  a  habit  of 
writing  which  grew  upon  him  after  he  once  gave  in 
to  it.  Among  the  Plays  in  which  there  is  little  or 
none  of  it  are  some  of  those  known  to  be  amongst 
his  earliest ;  and  some  that  were  undoubtedly  the 
product  of  the  latest  period  of  his  life  are  among 
those  that  have  the  most  of  it.  It  is  probable  that 
the  different  stages  in  the  frequency  with  which  it  is 
indulged  in  correspond  generally  to  the  order  of  suc- 
cession in  which  the  Plays  were  written.  A  certain 
progress  of  style  may  be  traced,  more  or  less  dis- 
tinctly, in  every  writer ;  and  there  is  no  point  of 
style  which  more  nvarks  a  poetic  writer  than  the 


38  Prolegomena. 

character  of  his  versification.  It  is  this,  for  instance, 
which  furnishes  us  with  the  most  conclusive  or  at 
least  the  clearest  evidence  that  the  Play  of  King 
Henry  the  Eighth  cannot  have  been  written  through- 
out by  Shakespeare.  It  is  a  point  of  style  which 
admits  of  precise  appreciation  to  a  degree  much 
beyond  most  others ;  and  there  is  no  other  single 
indication  which  can  be  compared  with  it  as  an 
element  in  determining  the  chronology  of  the  Plays. 
It  is  therefore  extremely  difficult  to  believe  that  the 
three  Roman  plays,  Julius  CcEsar^  Antony  and 
Cleopatra^  and  Coriolanus^  can  all  belong  to  the 
same  period  (Malone  assigns  them  severally  to  the 
years  1607,  1608,  and  1610),  seeing  that  the  second 
and  third  are  among  the  Plays  in  which  verses  hav- 
ing in  the  tenth  place  an  unemphatic  monosyllable 
of  the  kind  in  question  are  of  most  frequent  occur- 
rence, while  the  only  instances  of  anything  of  the 
sort  in  the  first  are,  I  believe,  the  following:  — 

54.  I  had  as  lief  not  be  as  live  to  be 
In  awe  of  such  a  thing  as  I  myself. 

54.  And  Cassius  is 

A  wretched  creature,  and  must  bend  his  body. 

54.  A  man  of  such  a  feeble  temper  should 
So  get  the  start  of  the  majestic  world. 

55.  I  do  believe  that  these  applauses  are 

For  some  new  honours  that  are  heaped  on  Caesar. 

155.  All  the  interim  is 

Like  a  phantasma. 
306.  Desiring  thee  that  Publius  Cimber  may 

Have  an  immediate  freedom  of  repeal. 
354.  And  am  moreover  suitor,  that  I  may 

Produce  his  body  to  the  market-place. 
357.  And  that  we  are  contented  Caesar  shall 

Have  all  true  rites  and  lawful  ceremonies. 


The  Verse.  39 

405.  But  yesterday  the  word  of  Caesar  might 
Have  stood  against  the  world. 

493.  Or  here,  or  at  , 

The  Capitol. 

Not  only  does  so  comparatively  rare  an  indulgence 
in  it  show  that  the  habit  of  this  kind  of  versification 
was  as  yet  not  fully  formed,  but  in  one  only  of  these 
ten  instances  have  we  it  carried  nearly  so  far  as  it 
repeatedly  is  in  some  other  Plays :  be^  and  is^  and 
should^  and  may^  and  shall^  and  TnigJit^  and  are^  all 
verbs,  though  certainly  not  emphatic,  will  yet  any 
of  them  allow  the  voice  to  rest  upon  it  with  a  con- 
siderably stronger  pressure  than  such  lightest  and 
slightest  of  "  winged  words  "  as  and^  or^  but^  if^  that 
(the  relative  or  conjunction),  ivho^  wJiich^  than.^  as^ 
of.,  to.,  with.,  for.,  etc.  The  only  decided  or  true 
and  perfect  instance  of  the  peculiarity  is  the  last  in 
the  list. 

2.  In  some  of  the  Plays  at  least  the  prosody  of 
many  of  the  verses  constructed  upon  the  principle 
under  consideration  has  been  misconceived  by  every 
editor,  including  the  most  recent.  Let  us  take,  for 
example,  the  play  of  Coriolanus.,  in  which,  as  has 
just  been  observed,  such  verses  are  very  numerous. 
Here,  in  the  first  place,  we  have  a  good  many  in- 
stances in  which  the  versification  is  correctly  exhib- 
ited in  the  First  Folio,  and,  of  course,  as  might  be 
expected,  in  all  subsequent  editions  ;  such  as  — 

Only  in  strokes,  but  with  thy  grim  looks  and 

The  thunder-like  percussion  of  thy  sounds.  —  i.  4. 

I  got  them  in  my  country's  service,  when 

Some  certain  of  your  brethren  roared  and  ran.  —  ii.  3. 

The  thwartings  of  your  dispositions,  if 

You  had  not  showed  them  how  you  were  disposed.  —  iii.  2. 

Come,  my  sweet  wife,  my  dearest  mother,  and 

My  friends  of  noble  touch,  when  I  am  forth.  —  iv.  2. 


40  Prolegomena. 

Permitted  by  our  dastard  nobles,  who 
Have  all  forsook  me.  —  iv.  5. 

Mistake  me  not,  to  save  my  life ;  for  if 

I  had  feared  death,  of  all  the  men  i'  the  world.  —  iv.  5. 

Had  we  no  quarrel  else  *  to  Rome,  but  that 

Thou  art  thence  banished,  we  would  muster  all.  —  iv.  5. 

You  have  holp  to  ravish  your  own  daughters,  and 

To  melt  the  city  leads  upon  your  pates.  —  iv.  6. 

Your  temples  burned  in  their  cement ;  and 

Your  franchises,  whereon  you  stood,  confined.  —  iv.  6. 

Upon  the  voice  of  occupation,  and 
The  breath  of  garlic-eaters.  —  iv.  6. 

I  do  not  know  what  witchcraft's  in  him ;  but 

Your  soldiers  use  him  as  the  grace  'fore  meat.  —  iv.  7. 

Mine  ears  against  your  suits  are  stronger  than 
Your  gates  against  my  force.  —  v.  3. 

As  if  Olympus  to  a  molehill  should 
In  supplication  nod.  —  v.  3. 

Hath  an  aspect  of  intercession,  which, 
Great  Nature  cries.  Deny  not.  —  v.  3. 

Aufidius,  and  you  Volsces,  mark ;  for  we'll 
Hear  nought  from  Rome  in  private.  —  v.  3. 

That  thou  restrain'st  from  me  the  duty  which 
To  a  mother's  part  belongs.  —  v.  3. 

And  hale  him  up  and  down ;  all  swearing,  if 

The  Roman  ladies  bring  not  comfort  home.  —  v.  4. 

*  The  reading  of  all  the  copies  is  "No  other  quarrel 
else ;  "  but  it  is  evident  that  other  is  merely  the  author's  first 
word,  which  he  must  be  supposed  to  have  intended  to  strike 
out,  if  he  did  not  actually  do  so,  when  he  resolved  to  sub- 
stitute else.  The  prosody  and  the  sense  agree  in  admonish- 
ing us  that  both  words  cannot  stand.  So  in  Antony  and 
Cleopatra,  iv.  10,  in  the  line  "  To  the  young  Roman  boy  she 
hath  sold  me,  and  I  fall;  '^ yomig  is  evidently  only  the  word 
first  intended  to  be  used,  and  never  could  be  meant  to  be 
retained  after  the  expression  Roman  boy  was  adopted. 
Another  case  of  the  same  kind  is  unquestionably  that  of 
the  word  old  in  the  line  {As  Tou  Like  It,  iv.  3),  —  . 

Under  an  (old)  oak,  whose  boughs  were  mossed  with  age. 


The  Verse.  41 

The  city  posts  by  this  hath  entered,  and 

Intends  to  appear  before  the  people,  hoping.  —  v.  5. 

I  seemed  his  follower,  not  partner ;  and 
He  waged  me  with  his  countenance,  as  if 
I  had  been  mercenary.  —  v.  5. 

At  a  few  drops  of  women's  rheum,  which  are 
As  cheap  as  lies.  —  v.  5. 

With  our  own  charge ;  making  a  treaty  where 
There  was  a  yielding.  —  v.  5. 

That  prosperously  I  have  attempted,  and 
With  bloody  passage  led  your  wars,  even  to 
The  gates  of  Rome.  —  v.  5. 

Breaking  his  oath  and  resolution,  like 
A  twist  of  rotten  silk.  —  v.  5. 

Though  in  this  city  he 
Hath  widowed  and  unchilded  many  a  one.  —  v.  5. 

These  instances  are  abundantly  sufficient  to  prove 
the  prevalence  in  the  Play  of  the  peculiarity  under 
consideration,  and  also  its  recognition,  whether  con- 
sciously and  deliberately  or  othei'wise  does  not  mat- 
ter, by  the  editors.  But  further,  we  have  also  some 
instances  in  which  the  editors  most  attached  to  the 
original  printed  text  have  ventured  to  go  the  length 
of  rearranging  the  verse  upon  this  principle  where  it 
stands  otherwise  in  the  First  Folio.  Such  are  the 
following :  — 

Commit  the  war  of  white  and  damask  in 
Their  nicely  gauded  cheeks.  —  ii.  i. 

Here  the  Folio  includes  their  in  the  first  line. 

A  kinder  value  of  the  people  than 
He  hath  hereto  prized  them  at.  —  ii.  2. 

The  Folio  gives  this  as  prose. 

To  allay  my  rages  and  revenges  with 
Your  colder  reasons.  —  v.  3. 

The  Folio  gives  from  "My  rages"  inclusive  as  a 
line. 


42  Prolegomena. 

After  this  it  is  surely  very  strange  to  find  in  our 
modern  editions  such  manifest  and  gross  misconcep- 
tions of  the  versification  as  the  following  arrange- 
ments exhibit :  — 

My  gentle  Marcius,  worthy  Caius, 

And  —  By  deed-achieving  honour  duly  named.  —  ii.  i. 

I  have  seen  the  dumb  men  throng  to  see  him, 
And  —  The  blind  to  hear  him  speak.  —  ii.  i. 
Have  made  them  mutes,  silenced  their  pleaders, 
And  —  Dispropertied  their  freedoms.  —  ii.  i. 

Having  determined  of  the  Volsces, 

And  —  To  send  for  Titus  Lartius.  —  ii.  2. 

To  gratify  his  noble  service,  that  hath 
Thus  —  Stood  for  his  country.  —  ii.  2. 

That  valour  is  the  chiefest  virtue. 

And  —  Most  dignifies  the  haver.  —  ii.  2. 

Pray  you,  go  fit  you  to  the  custom ; 

And  —  Take  to  you,  as  your  predecessors  have.  —  ii.  2. 

I  have  seen  and  heard  of;  for  your  voices    [voice.  —  ii.3. 
Have  —  Done  many  things,  some  less,  some  more ;  your 

Endue  you  with  the  people's  voice  : 
Remains  —  That,  in  the  official  marks  invested, 
You  —  Anon  do  meet  the  senate.  —  ii.  3. 
Would  think  upon  you  for  your  voices. 
And  —  Translate  his  malice  towards  you  into  love.  —  ii.  3. 

The  apprehension  of  his  present  portance, 

Which  —  Most  gibingly,  ungravely,  he  did  fashion.  —  ii.  3. 

For  the  mutable,  rank-scented  many, 
Let  them  —  Regard  me  as  I  do  not  flatter, 
And  —  Therein  behold  themselves.  —  iii.  i. 

That  would  depopulate  the  city. 
And  —  Be  every  man  himself.  —  iii.  i. 

In  all  these  instances  the  w^ords  w^hich  I  have 
separated  from  those  that  followed  them  by  a  dash 
belong  to  the  preceding  line  ;  and,  nearly  every  time 
that  the  first  of  the  two  lines  is  thus  put  out  of  joint, 
the  rhythm  of  both  is  ruined. 


The  Verse.  ~         43 

The  modern  editor  who  has  shown  the  most  dis- 
position to  tamper  with  the  old  text  in  the  matter  of 
the  versification  is  Steevens.  The  metrical  arrange- 
ment of  the  First  Folio  is  undoubtedly  wrong  in 
thousands  of  instances,  and  it  is  very  evident  that  the 
conception  which  the  persons  by  whom  the  printing 
was  superintended  had  of  verse  was  extremely  im- 
perfect and  confused.  They  would  be  just  as  likely 
to  go  wrong  as  right  whenever  any  intricacy  or  indis- 
tinctness in  the  manuscript  threw  them  upon  their 
own  resources  of  knowledge  and  critical  sagacity. 
But  Steevens  set  about  the  work  of  correction  on 
false  principles.  Nothing  else  would  satisfy  him 
than  to  reduce  the  prosody  of  the  natural  dramatic 
blank  verse  of  Shakespeare,  the  characteristic  prod- 
uct of  the  sixteenth  century,  to  the  standard  of  the 
trim  rhyming  couplets  into  which  Pope  shaped  his 
polished  epigrams  in  the  eighteenth.  It  is  a  mistake, 
however,  to  speak  of  Steevens  as  having  no  ear  for 
verse.  His  ear  was  a  practised  and  correct  enough 
one,  only  that  it  had  been  trained  in  a  narrow  school. 
Malone,  on  the  other  hand,  had  no  notion  whatever 
of  verse  beyond  what  he  could  obtain  by  counting 
the  syllables  on  his  fingers.  Everything  else  but  the 
mere  number  of  the  syllables  went  with  him  for 
nothing.  This  is  demonstrated  by  all  that  he  has 
written  on  the  subject.  And,  curiously  enough,  Mr. 
James  Boswell,  the  associate  of  his  labors,  appears 
to  have  been  endowed  with  nearly  an  equal  share  of 
the  same  singular  insensibility. 


44  Prolegomena. 

VII.     SHAKESPEARE'S  JULIUS  C^SAR. 

Shakespeare's  yulius  Ccesar  was  first  printed, 
as  far  as  is  known,  in  the  First  Folio  collection  of 
his  Plays,  published  in  1633  ;  it  stands  there  between 
Tzmon  of  Athens  and  Macbeth^  filing,  in  the  divis- 
ion of  the  volume  which  begins  with  Coriolanus 
and  extends  to  the  end,  being  that  occupied  with  the 
Tragedies^  —  which  is  preceded  by  those  contain- 
ing the  Comedies  and  the  Histories^  —  the  double- 
columned  pages  from  109  to  130  inclusive.*  Here, 
at  the  beginning  and  over  each  page,  it  is  entitled 
''  The  Tragedie  of  Julius  Caesar  ;  "  but  in  the  Cata- 
logue at  the  beginning  of  the  volume  it  is  entered  as 
"  The  Life  and  Death  of  Julius  CaBsar ;  "  other  en- 
tries in  the  list  being,  among  the  Histories^  "  The 
Life  and  Death  of  King  John,"  "  The  Life  and  Death 
of  Richard  the  Third,"  "  The  Life  of  King  Henry 
the  Eighth,"  and,  among  the  Tragedies^  "  The 
Tragedy  of  Coriolanus,"  "  The  Tragedy  of  Mac- 
beth," "  The  Tragedy  of  Hamlet,"  "  King  Lear," 
"  Othello,  the  Moore  of  Venice."  In  the  Second 
Folio  (1632),  where  this  series  of  pages  includes 
Troilus  and  Cressida,  "  The  Tragedy  of  Julius 
Caesar,"  as  it  is  entered  both  in  the  running  title  and 
in  the  Catalogue,  extends  from  page  129  to  150 
inclusive.  In  both  editions  the  Play  is  divided  into 
Acts,  but  not  into  Scenes  ;  although  the  First  Act  is 
headed  in  both  "Actus  Primus.  Scoena  Prima." 
There  is  no  list  in  either  edition  of  the  Dramatis 
Personce^  as  there  is  with  several  others  of  the  Plays. 

Malone,  in  his  "  Attempt  to  ascertain  the  Order 
in  which  the  Plays  of  Shakespeare  were  written," 

*  There  is  a  break  in  the  pagination  from  loi  to  108  in- 
clusive. 


The  Julius  C^sar.  45 

assigning  Hamlet  to  the  year  1600,  Othello  to  1604, 
Lear  to  1605,  Macbeth  to  1606,  Antony  and  Cleo* 
patra  to  1608,  and  Coriolanus  to  1610,  fixes  upon 
the  year  1607  as  the  date  of  the  composition  of 
yulius  Ccesar.  But  nothing  can  be  more  inconclu- 
sive than  the  grounds  upon  which  he  comes  to  this 
conchision.  His  reasoning  is  principally,  or,  indeed, 
we  may  say  almost  wholly,  founded  upon  the  fact  of 
a  rhyming  play  on  the  same  subject  by  William 
Alexander,  afterwards  Earl  of  Sterline,  or  Stirling, 
having  been  first  printed  at  London  in  that  year  (it 
had  been  originally  printed  in  Scotland  three  years 
before),  which  he  thinks  may  be  presumed  to  have 
preceded  Shakespeare's.  "  Shakespeare,  we  know," 
he  observes,  in  his  disquisition  on  the  Chronological 
Order  (  Variorum  edition,  II.  445-451),  "  formed  at 
least  twelve  plays  on  fables  that  had  been  unsuccess- 
fully managed  by  other  poets  ;  but  no  contemporary 
writer  was  daring  enough  to  enter  the  lists  with  him 
in  his  lifetime,  or  to  model  into  a  drama  a  subject 
which  had  already  employed  his  pen ;  and  it  is  not 
likely  that  Lord  Sterline,  who  was  then  a  very  young 
man,  and  had  scarcely  unlearned  the  Scotch  idiom, 
sholild  have  been  more  hardy  than  any  other  poet  of 
that  age.'*  Elsewhere  (XII.  2)  he  says,  "  In  the  two 
Plays  many  parallel  passages  are  found,  which  might 
perhaps  have  proceeded  onl}'  from  the  two  authors 
drawing  from  the  same  source.  However,  there  are 
some  reasons  for  thinking  the  coincidence  more  than 
accidental."  The  only  additional  reason  he  gives  is 
that  "  a  passage  in  The  Tempest  ('  The  cloud- 
capped  towers,'  etc.)  seems  to  have  been  copied 
from  one  in  Darius^  another  Play  of  Lord  Sterline's, 
printed  at  Edinburgh  in  1603."  Upon  the  subject 
of  these  alleged  imitations  by  Shakespeare  of  one 


46  Prolegomena. 

of  the  most  uninspired  of  his  contemporaries,  see 
Mr.  Knight's  article  on  this  William  Alexander  in 
the  "  Biographical  Dictionary  of  the  Society  for  the 
Diffusion  of  Useful  Knowledge,"  Vol.  II.  pp.  4-7. 
They  may  safely  be  pronounced  to  be  one  and  all 
purely  imaginary.  The  passage  in  Darius  (which 
Play  is  also  in  rhyme),  it  may  be  noted,  was  removed 
by  Lord  Stirling  from  his  Play  when  he  reprinted  it 
in  a  revised  form  in  1637.  This  would  have  been  a 
singularly  self-denying  course  for  the  noble  versifier 
to  have  taken  if  the  notion  that  it  had  been  either 
plagiarized  or  imitated  by  the  great  English  drama- 
tist had  ever  crossed  his  mind.  The  resemblance,  in 
fact,  is  no  greater  than  would  be  almost  sure  to 
occur  in  the  case  of  any  two  writers  in  verse,  how- 
ever widely  remote  in  point  of  genius,  taking  up  the 
same  thought,  which,  like  the  one  we  have  here,  is  in 
itself  almost  one  of  the  commonplaces  of  poetical  or 
rhetorical  declamation,  however  pre-eminently  it  has 
been  arrayed  by  Shakespeare  in  all  the  "pride, 
pomp,  and  circumstance  of  glorious  words." 

A  Latin  Play  upon  the  subject  of  the  death  of 
Caesar  —  "  Epilogus  Caesaris  Interfecti  "  —  the  pro- 
duction of  a  Dr.  Richard  Eedes,  whom  Mere^  in 
his  Wifs  Coinmonwealth^  published  in  1598,  men- 
tions as  one  of  the  best  tragic  writers  of  the  time, 
appears  to  have  been  brought  out  at  Christ's  Church, 
Oxford,  in  1582.  And  there  is  also  an  anonymous 
English  Play  of  Shakespeare's  age,  entitled  "  The 
Tragedy  of  Caesar  and  Pompey,  or  Csesar's  Re- 
venge," of  which  two  editions  have  come  down  to 
us,  one  bearing  the  date  of  1607  (the  same  year  in 
which  Alexander's  jfulius  Ccesar  was  printed  at 
London),  the  other  without  date,  but  apparently 
earlier.    This  Play  is  often  confounded  with  another 


The  Julius  C^sar.  47 

of  the  same  title  by  George  Chapman,  which,  how- 
ever, was  not  printed  till  1631.  The  anonymous 
Play  appears  to  have  been  first  produced  in  1594. 
See  Henslowe^s  Diary,  by  Collier,  p.  44.  Malone 
observes  that  "in  the  running  title  it  is  called  The 
Tragedy  of  yulius  Ccesar ;  perhaps  the  better  to 
impose  it  on  the  public  for  the  performance  of 
Shakespeare."  It  is  not  pretended,  however,  that  it 
and  Shakespeare's  Play  have  anything  in  common.* 
Shakespeare's  Julius  Ccesar  is  alluded  to  as  one 
of  the  most  popular  of  his  Plays,  by  Leonard 
Digges  (a  younger  brother  of  Sir  Dudley,  the  pop- 
ular parliament  man  in  the  time  of  Charles  I.,  and 
afterwards  Master  of  the  Rolls),  in  a  copy  of  verses 
prefixed  to  the  First  Folio  :  — 

Nor  shall  I  e'er  believe  or  think  thee  dead,  .  .  . 

.  .  .  till  I  hear  a  scene  more  nobly  take 

Than  when  thy  half-sword  parlying  Romans  spake. 

In  the  Prologue,  also,  to  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's 
tragedy  entitled  The  liaise  One,-\  the  subject  of 
which  is  the  loves  of  Caesar  and  Cleopatra  in  Egypt, 
the  authors  vindicate  themselves  from  the  charge  of 

*  From  a  comedy  called  Every  Woman  in  her  Humour, 
printed  in  1609,  Malone  quotes  a  passage  from  which  he 
infers  that  there  was  an  ancient  droll  or  puppet-show  on  the 
subject  of  Julius  Csesar  :  —  "I  have  seen  the  City  of  Nineveh 
and  Julius  Caesar  acted  by  mammets."  "  I  formerly  sup- 
posed," Malone  adds,  "that  this  droll  was  formed  on  the 
play  before  us;  but  have  lately  observed  that  it  is  mentioned 
with  other  motions  (Jonas,  Ninevie,  and  the  Destruction  of 
Jerusalem)  in  Marston's  Dutch  Courtesan,  printed  in  1605, 
and  was  probably  of  a  much  older  date."  {Chronological 
Order,  449.)  But  it  is  not  so  clear  that  the  mention  of  the 
motion,  or  puppet-show,  in  1605  would  make  it  impossible 
that  it  should  have  been  posterior  to  Shakespeare's  Play. 

t  It  has  been  disputed  whether  by  The  False  One  we  are 
to  understand  Caesar  or  another  character  in  the  Play,  the 
villain  Septimius.  A  friend  suggests  that  it  may  be  Cleo- 
patra that  is  intended  to  be  so  designated. 


48  Prolegomena. 

having  taken  up  the  same  ground  with  Shakespeare 

in  the  present  Play :  — 

Sure  to  tell 
Of  Ceesar's  amorous  heats,  and  how  he  fell 
r  the  Capitol,  can  never  be  the  same 
To  the  judicious. 

But  in  what  year  The  False  One  was  brought 
out  is  not  known.  It  certainly  was  not  before  1608 
or  1609. 

Finally,  it  has  been  remarked  that  the  quarrel 
scene  between  Brutus  and  Cassius,  in  Shakespeare's 
Play,  has  evidently  formed  the  model  for  a  similar 
one  between  the  two  friends  Melantius  and  Amintor, 
in  the  Third  Act  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Maid's 
Tragedy.  All  that  is  known,  however,  of  the  date 
of  that  Play  is,  that  it  was  probably  brought  out 
before  161 1,  in  which  year  another  Play,  entitled 
The  Second  Maiden's  Tragedy.,  was  licensed.  But 
even  this  is  doubtful ;  for  there  is  no  resemblance,  or 
connection  of  any  kind,  except  that  of  the  names, 
between  the  two  Pl^ys.* 

*  "  This  tragedy,"  sajs  Malone  "  (as  I  learn  from  a  MS. 
of  Mr.  Oldjs),  was  formerly  in  the  possession  of  John  War- 
burton,  Esq.,  Somerset  Herald,  and  since  in  the  library  of 
the  Marquis  of  Lansdown."  {Chronological  Order,  450.) 
It  is  one  of  the  three  Plays  which  escaped  destruction  by 
Mr.  Warburton's  cook.  It  has  now  been  printed  "  from  the 
original  MS.,  1611,  in  the  Lansdown  Collection"  (British 
Museum),  in  the  First  No.  of  The  Old  English  Drama,  Lon. 
1824-25,  the  eight  Nos.  of  which,  making  two  vols.,  are 
commonly  regarded  as  making  a  supplement  to'  the  last,  or 
12  volume  edition  of  Dodsley.  The  title  of  The  Second 
Maideii's  Tragedy  appears  to  have  been  given  to  the  present 
Play  by  Sir  George  Buc,  the  master  of  the  Revels.  The 
MS.,  he  states,  had  no  name  inscribed  on  it.  On  the  back 
of  the  MS.  the  Play  is  attributed  to  William  Goughe.  After- 
wards William  has  been  altered  to  Thomas.  Then  this  name 
has  been  obliterated,  and  George  Chapman  substituted. 
Finally,  this  too  has  Ijeen  scored  through,  and  the  author- 
ship assigned  to   William  Shakspear. 


The  Julius  C^sar.  49 

On  the  whole,  it  may  be  inferred,  from  these  slight 
evidences,  that  the  present  Play  can  hardly  be  as- 
signed to  a  later  date  than  the  year  1607  5  ^"^  there 
is  nothing  to  prove  that  it  may  not  be  of  considerably 
earlier  date. 

It  is  evident  that  the  character  and  history  of  Julius 
Caesar  had  taken  a  strong  hold  of  Shakespeare's  im- 
agination. There  is  perhaps  no  other  historical  char- 
acter who  is  so  repeatedly  alluded  to  throughout  his 
Plays. 

'*  There  was  never  anything  so  sudden,"  says  the 
disguised  Rosalind  in  As  Tou  Like  It  (v.  2)  to 
Orlando,  speaking  of  the  manner  in  which  his 
brother  Oliver  and  her  cousin  (or  sister,  as  she 
calls  her)  Celia  had  fallen  in  love  with  one  another, 
"  but  the  fight  of  two  rams,  and  Caesar's  thrasonical 
brag  of  I  came,  saw,  and  overcame  :  for  your  brother 
and  my  sister  no  sooner  met,  but  they  looked ;  no 
sooner  looked,  but  they  loved  ;  no  sooner  loved,  but 
they  sighed  ;  "  etc. 

"  O  !  such  a  day,"  exclaims  Lord  Bardolph  in  the 
Second  Part  of  King  Henry  the  Fourth  (i.  i)  to 
old  Northumberland,  in  his  misannouncement  of  the 
issue  of  the  field  of  Shrewsbury,  — 

So  fought,  so  honoured,  and  so  fairly  won, 
Came  not  till  now  to  dignify  the  times 
Since  Caesar's  fortunes. 

And  afterwards  (in  iv.  3)  we  have  Falstaff's  mag- 
nificent gasconade  :  "  I  have  speeded  hither  with  the 
very  extremest  inch  [  ?]  of  possibility :  I  have  foun- 
dered ninescore  and  odd  posts ;  and  here,  travel- 
tainted  as  I  am,  have,  in  my  pure  and  immaculate 
valour,  taken  Sir  John  Coleville  of  the  Dale,  a  most 
furious  [famous?]  knight,  and  valorous  enemy.  But 
what  of  that  ?  He  saw  me,  and  yielded  ;  that  I  may 
4 


50  Prolegomena. 

justly  say,  with  the  hook-nosed  fellow  of  Rome,  I 
came,  saw,  and  overcame." 

"  But  now  behold,"  says  the  Chorus  in  the  Fifth 
Act  of  King  Henry  the  Fifths  describing  the  tri- 
umphant return  of  the  English  monarch  from  the 
conquest  of  France,  — 

In  the  quick  forge  and  working-house  of  thought, 
How  London  doth  pour  out  her  citizens. 
The  mayor,  and  all  his  brethren,  in  best  sort, 
Like  to  the  senators  of  the  antique  Rome, 
With  the  plebeians  swarming  at  their  heels, 
Go  forth,  and  fetch  their  conquering  Caesar  in. 

In  the  three  Parts  of  King  He7iry  the  Sixths  which 
are  so  thickly  sprinkled  with  classical  allusions  of 
all  kinds,  there  are  several  to  the  great  Roman  Dic- 
tator. "  Henry  the  Fifth  !  thy  ghost  I  invocate ; " 
the  Duke  of  Bedford  apostrophizes  his  deceased 
brother  in  the  First  Part  (i.  i)  :  — 

Prosper  this  realm,  keep  it  from  civil  broils  I 
Combat  with  adverse  planets  in  the  heavens  I 
A  far  more  glorious  star  thy  soul  will  make 
Than  Julius  Caesar,  or  bright . 

In  the  next  Scene  the  Maid,  setting  out  to  raise  the 
siege  of  Orleans,  and  deliver  her  king  and  country, 
compares  herself  to 

that  proud  insulting  ship 
Which  Caesar  and  his  fortunes  bare  at  once. 

In  the  Second  Part  (iv.  i)  we  have  Suffolk,  when 
hurried  away  to  execution  by  the  seamen  who  had 
captured  him,  consoling  himself  with  — 

Great  men  oft  die  by  vile  bezonians  : 
A  Roman  sworder  and  banditto  slave 
Murdered  sweet  Tully ;  Brutus'  bastard  hand 
Stabbed  Julius  Caesar;  savage  islanders 
Pompey  the  great ;  and  Suffolk  dies  by  pirates. 

And  afterwards  (iv.  7)  we  have  Lord  Say,  in  some- 


The  Julius  C^sar.  51 

what  similar  circumstances,  thus  appealing  to  Cade 
and  his  mob  of  men  of  Kent :  — 

Hear  me  but  speak,  and  bear  me  where  you  will. 
Kent,  in  the  Commentaries  Caesar  writ, 
Is  termed  the  civilest  place  of  all  this  isle ; 
Sweet  is  the  country,  because  full  of  riches ; 
The  people  liberal,  valiant,  active,  worthy;    . 
Which  makes  me  hope  you  are  not  void  of  pity. 

"  O  traitors  !  murderers  !  "  Qiieen  Margaret  in  the 
Third  Part  (v.  5)  shrieks  out  in  her  agony  and 
rage,  when  the  Prince  her  son  is  butchered  before 
her  eyes :  — 

They  that  stabbed  Caesar  shed  no  blood  at  all, 

Did  not  offend,  nor  were  not  worthy  blame, 

If  this  foul  deed  were  by  to  sequel  it : 

He  was  a  man ;  this,  in  respect,  a  child ; 

And  men  ne'er  spend  their  fury  on  a  child. 

In  King  Richard  the  Third  (iii.  i)  is  a  passage 
of  great  pregnancy.  "  Did  Julius  Caesar  build  that 
place,  my  lord  ?  "  the  young  Prince  asks  Bucking- 
ham, when  it  is  proposed  that  he  shall  retire  for  a 
day  or  two  to  the  Tower  before  his  coronation. 
And,  when  informed  in  reply  that  the  mighty  Ro- 
man at  least  began  the  building,  he  further  in- 
quires, — 

Is  it  upon  record,  or  else  reported 
Successively  from  age  to  age,  he  built  it? 

"  It  is  upon  record,  my  gracious  lord,"  answers 
Buckingham.  On  which  the  wise  royal  boy  re- 
joins, — 

But  say,  my  lord,  it  were  not  registered, 

Methinks  the  truth  should  live  from  age  to  age, 

As  'twere  retailed  to  all  posterity, 

Even  to  the  general  all-ending  day. 

And  then,  after  a  "What  say  you,  uncle?"  he  ex- 
plains the  great  thought  that  was  working  in  his 
mind  in  these  striking  words  :  — 


52  Prolegomena. 

That  Julius  Caesar  was  a  famous  man  : 
With  what  his  valour  did  enrich  his  wit 
His  wit  set  down  to  make  his  valour  live. 
Death  makes  no  conquest  of  this  conqueror,* 
For  now  he  lives  in  fame,  though  not  in  life. 

Far  away  from  anything  Roman  as  the  fable  and 
locality  of  Hamlet  are,  various  passages  testify  how 
much  Caesar  was  in  the  mind  of  Shakespeare  while 
writing  that  Play.  First,  we  have  the  famous  pas- 
sage (i.  i)  so  closely  resembling  one  in  the  Second 
Scene  of  the  Second  Act  of  Julius  Ccesar :  — 

In  the  most  high  and  palmy  state  of  Rome, 
A  little  ere  the  mightiest  Julius  fell. 
The  graves  stood  tenantless,  and  the  sheeted  dead 
Did  squeak  and  gibber  in  the  Roman  streets ; 
As  t  stars  with  trains  of  fire,  and  dews  of  blood. 
Disasters  in  the  sun;  and  the  moist  star. 
Upon  whose  influence  Neptune's  empire  stands, 
Was  sick  almost  to  doomsday  with  eclipse.  J 

Then  there  is  (iii.  2)  the  conversation  between 
Hamlet  and  Polonius,  touching  the  histrionic  ex- 
ploits of  the  latter  in  his  university  days :  "  I  did 
enact  Julius  Caesar :  I  was  killed  i'  the  Capitol ; 
Brutus  killed  me."  "  It  was  a  drule  part  of  him  to 
kill  so  capital  a  calf  there "  (surely,  by  the  by,  to 
be  spoken  aside^  though  not  so  marked).  Lastly, 
there  is  the  Prince's  rhyming  moralization  (v.  i) :  — 

Imperial  Caesar,  dead  and  turned  to  clay. 
Might  stop  a  hole  to  keep  the  wind  away. 

*  "  His  conqueror "  is  the  reading  of  all  the  Folios. 
**  This"  was  restored  by  Theobald  from  the  Quarto  of  1597, 
and  has  been  adopted  by  Malone  and  most  modern  editors. 

t  Something  is  evidently  wrong  here ;  but  even  Mr.  Col- 
lier's annotator  gives  us  no  help. 

X  This  passage,  however,  is  found  only  in  the  Quartos, 
and  is  omitted  in  all  the  Folios.  Nor,  although  retained  by 
Mr.  Collier  in  his  "  regulated  "  text,  is  it  stated  to  be  re- 
stored by  his  MS.  annotator. 


The  Julius  C^sar.  53 

O,  that  that  earth  which  kept  the  world  in  awe 
Should  patch  a  wall  to  expel  the  winter's  flaw ! 

Many  notices  of  Caesar  occur,  as  might  be  expected, 
in  Cymbeline.  Such  are  the  boast  of  Posthumus  to 
his  friend  Philario  (ii.  4)  of  the  valor  of  the  Brit- 
ons :  — 

Our  countrymen 
Are  men  more  ordered  than  when  Julius  Caesar 
Smiled  at  their  lack  of  skill,  but  found  their  courage 
Worthy  his  frowning  at ; 

Various  passages  in  the  First  Scene  of  the  Third 

Act:  — 

When  Julius  Caesar  (whose  remembrance  yet 
Lives  in  men's  eyes,  and  will  to  ears  and  tongues 
Be  theme  and  hearing  ever)  was  in  this  Britain, 
And  conquered  it,  Cassibelan,  thine  uncle 
(Famous  in  Czesar's  praises  no  whit  less 
Than  in  his  feats  deserving  it),  etc. ; 

There  be  many  Caesars, 
Ere  such  another  Julius ; 

A  kind  of  conquest 
Caesar  made  here ;  but  made  not  here  his  brag 
Of  came,  and  saw,  and  overcame :  with  shame 
(The  first  that  ever  touched  him)  he  was  carried 
From  off  our  coast  twice  beaten  ;  and  his  shipping 
(Poor  ignorant  baubles  !  )  on  our  terrible  seas, 
Like  egg-shells  moved  upon  their  surges,  cracked 
As  easily  'gainst  our  rocks.     For  joy  whereof 
The  famed  Cassibelan,  who  was  once  at  point 
(O  giglot  Fortune !  )  to  master  Caesar's  sword, 
Made  Lud's  town  with  rejoicing  fires  bright, 
And  Britons  strut  with  courage ; 
Our  kingdom  is  stronger  than  it  was  at  that  time ;  and, 
as  I  said,  there  is  no  more  such  Caesars  ;  other  of  them  may 
have  crooked  noses ;  but  to  owe  such  straight  arms,  none ; 
Caesar's  ambition 
(Which  swelled  so  much  that  it  did  almost  stretch 
The  sides  o'  the  world)  against  all  colour,  here, 
Did  put  the  yoke  upon  us ;  which  to  shake  off 


54  Prolegomena. 

Becomes  a  warlike  people,  whom  we  reckon 
Ourselves  to  be. 

Lastly,  we  have  a  few  references  in  Antony  and  Cleo- 
^atra;  such  as, — 

Broad-fronted  Csesar, 
When  thou  wast  here  above  the  ground,  I  was 
A  morsel  for  a  monarch  (i.  4)  ; 

Julius  Csesar, 
Who  at  Philippi  the  good  Brutus  ghosted  (ii.  6) ; 

What  was  it 
That  moved  pale  Cassius  to  conspire?    And  what 
Made  the  all-honoured,  honest,  Roman  Brutus, 
With  the  armed  rest,  and  courtiers  of  beauteous  free- 
dom. 
To  drench  the  Capitol,  but  that  thej  would 
Have  one  man  but  a  man?  (ii.  6)  ; 

Your  fine  Egyptian  cookery 
Shall  have  the  fame.     I  have  heard  that  Julius  Caesar 
Grew  fat  with  feasting  there  (ii.  6)  ; 

When  Antony  found  Julius  Caesar  dead, 
He  cried  almost  to  roaring;  and  he  wept 
When  at  Philippi  he  found  Brutus  slain  (iii.  2) ; 

Thyreus.  —  Give  me  grace  to  lay 
My  duty  on  your  hand. 

Cleopatra.  —  Your  Caesar's  father  oft. 
When  he  hath  mused  of  taking  kingdoms  in, 
Bestowed  his  lips  on  that  unworthy  place 
As  it  rained  kisses  (iii.  11). 

These  passages,  taken  all  together,  and  some  of 
them  more  particularly,  will  probably  be  thought  to 
afford  a  considerably  more  comprehensive  represen- 
tation of  "the  mighty  Julius "  than  the  Play  which 
bears  his  name.  We  cannot  be  sure  that  that  Play 
was  so  entitled  by  Shakespeare.  "  The  Tragedy 
of  Julius  Caesar,"  or  "  The  Life  and  Death  of  Julius 
Caesar,"  would  describe  no  more  than  the  half  of  it. 
Caesar's  part  in  it  terminates  with  the  opening  of  the 


The  Julius  C^sar.  55 

Third  Act ;  after  that,  on  to  the  end,  we  have  noth- 
ing more  of  him  but  his  dead  body,  his  ghost,  and 
his  memory.  The  Play  might  more  fitly  be  called 
after  Brutus  than  after  Caesar.  And  still  more  re- 
markable is  the  partial  delineation  that  we  have  of 
the  man.  We  have  a  distinct  exhibition  of  little  else 
beyond  his  vanity  and  arrogance,  relieved  and  set 
off  by  his  good-nature  or  affability.  He  is  brought 
before  us  only  as  "  the  spoilt  child  of  victory."  All 
the  grandeur  and  predominance  of  his  character  is 
kept  in  the  background,  or  in  the  shade  —  to  be  in- 
ferred, at  most,  from  what  is  said  by  the  other 
dramatis  personce  —  by  Cassius  on  the  one  hand 
and  by  Antony  on  the  other  in  the  expression  of 
their  own  diametrically  opposite  natures  and  aims, 
and  in  a  very  few  words  by  the  calmer,  milder,  and 
juster  Brutus  —  nowhere  manifested  by  himself.  It 
might  almost  be  suspected  that  the  complete  and 
full-length  Caesar  had  been  carefully  reserved  for 
another  drama.  Even  Antony  is  only  half  delin- 
eated here,  to  be  brought  forward  again  on  another 
scene  :  Caesar  needed  such  reproduction  much  more, 
and  was  as  well  entitled  to  a  stage  which  he  should 
tread  without  an  equal.  He  is  only  a  subordinate 
character  in  the  present  Play  ;  his  death  is  but  an 
incident  in  the  progress  of  the  plot.*  The  first 
figures,  standing  conspicuously  out  from  all  the  rest, 
are  Brutus  and  Cassius. 

Some  of  the  passages  that  have  been  collected  are 
further  curious  and  interesting  as  being  other  render- 
ings of  conceptions  that  are  also  found  in  the  present 
Play,  and  as  consequently  furnishing  data  both  for 
the  problem  of  the  chronological  arrangement  of  the 
Plays,  and  for  the  general  history  of  the  mind  and 
artistic  genius  of  the  writer.     After  all  the  commen- 


56  Prolegomena. 

tatorship  and  criticism  of  which  the  works  of  Shake- 
speare have  been  the  subject,  they  still  remain  to  be 
studied  in  their  totality  with  a  special  reference  to 
himself.  The  man  Shakespeare,  as  read  in  his 
works  —  Shakespeare  as  there  revealed,  not  only  in 
his  genius  and  intellectual  powers,  but  in  his  char- 
acter, disposition,  temper,  opinions,  tastes,  prejudices, 
—  is  a  book  yet  to  be  written. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  not  only  in  the  present  Play, 
but  also  in  Hamlet^  and  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra^ 
the  assassination  of  Caesar  should  be  represented  as 
having,  taken  place  in  the  Capitol.  From  the  Pro- 
logue, quoted  above,  to  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's 
tragedy  of  The  False  One^  too,  it  would  appear  as 
if  this  had  become  the  established  popular  belief; 
but  the  notion  may,  very  probably,  be  older  than 
Shakespeare. 

Another  deviation  from  the  literalities  of  history 
which  we  find  in  the  Play,  is  making  the  Trium- 
virs, in  the  opening  scene  of  the  Fourth  Act,  hold 
their  meeting  in  Rome.  But  this  may  have  been 
done  deliberately,  and  neither  from  ignorance  nor 
foVgetfulness. 

I  have  had  no  hesitation  in  discarding,  with  all  the 
modern  editors,  such  absurd  perversions  as  Antonio^ 
Flavio^  Lucio^  which  never  can  have  proceeded  from 
Shakespeare,  wherever  they  occur  in  the  old  copies ; 
and  in  adopting  Theobald's  rectification  of  Murellus 
for  Marullus^  which  also  cannot  be  supposed  to  be 
anything  else  than  a  mistake  made  in  the  printing 
or  transcription.  But  it  seems  hardly  worth  while 
to  change  our  familiar  Portia  into  Porcia  (although 
Johnson,  without  being  followed,  has  adopted  that 
perhaps  more  correct  spelling  in  his  edition). 

The  peculiarity  of  the  form  given  to  the  name  of 


The  Julius  C^sar-  57 

Caesar's  wife  in  this  Play  does  not  seem  to  have  been 
noticed.  The  only  form  of  the  name  known  to 
antiquity  is  Calpurnia,  And  that  is  also  the  name 
even  in  North's  English  translation  of  Plutarch^ 
Shakespeare's  great  authority.  [This  is  an  error, 
into  which  White  also,  who  changes  the  name  to 
Calpurnia^  has  fallen.  In  the  first  (1579)  edition 
of  North's  Plutarch  —  the  edition  which  Shake- 
speare must  have  used  —  the  name  is  Calphurnia 
(see  p.  769)  ;  but  in  some  of  the  later  editions  — 
that  of  1676,  for  instance  —  I  find  it  changed  to  Cal- 
purnia.~\  I  have  not,  however,  ventured  to  rectify 
it,  in  the  possibility  that,  although  a  corrupt  form,  it 
may  be  one  which  Shakespeare  found  established  in 
the  language,  and  in  possession  of  the  public  ear. 
In  that  case,  it  is  to  be  classed  with  Ant/io?zy, 
Protheus^  and  Bosphorus^  the  common  modern  cor- 
ruption of  the  classic  Bosporus^  which  even  Gibbon 
does  not  hesitate  to  use. 

The  name  of  the  person  called  Decius  Brutus 
throughout  the  play  was  Decimus  Brutus.  Decius 
is  not,  like  Decimus^  a  pragnomen,  but  a  gentilitial 
name.  The  error,  however,  is  as  old  as  the  edition  of 
Plutarch's  Greek  text  produced  by  Henry  Stephens 
in  1572  ;  *  and  it  occurs  likewise  in  the  accompa- 
nying Latin  translation,  and  both  in  Amyot's  and 
Dacier's  French,  as  well  as  in  North's  English.  It 
is  also  found  in  Philemon  Holland's  translation  of 
Suetonius^  published  in  1606.  Lord  Stirling,  in  his 
yulius  Ccesar^  probably  misled  in  like  manner  by 
North,  has  fallen  into  the  same  mistake  with  Shake- 
speare. That  Decius  is  no  error  of  the  press  is 
shown  by  its  occurrence  sometimes  in  the  verse  in 
places  where  Decimus  could  not  stand. 

*  'Ev  It  Toin-ifi  AiKtos  Bpoijros  hlKXrjatv  'AXf^ivos.     Vit.  Cces.  p.  1354. 


58  Prolegomena. 

Finally,  it  may  be  noticed  that  it  was  really  this 
Decimus  Brutus  who  had  been  the  special  friend 
and  favorite  of  Caesar,  not  Marcus  Junius  Brutus  the 
conspirator,  as  represented  in  the  Play.  In  his  mis- 
conception upon  this  point  our  English  dramatist  has 
been  followed  by  Voltaire  in  his  tragedy  of  La  Mort 
de  Cesar ^  which  is  written  avowedly  in  imitation  of 
the  Julius  CcBsar  of  Shakespeare. 


NOTE. 

At  the  end  of  the  Prolegomena^  in  Craik's  third  edition, 
is  the  following  note  : 

"I  have  not  thought  it  necessary,  in  the  present  revision, 
to  make  the  numerous  typographical  rectifications  which 
would  have  been  required  in  the  margin  of  every  page,  and 
also  in  many  of  the  references,  to  remove  the  traces  of  an 
unimportant  error  of  one  in  the  numbering  of  the  speeches 
from  249,  which  ought  to  be  248,  onwards  to  the  end  of  the 
play." 

In  this  American  edition  I  determined  to  make  these 
"numerous  typographical  rectifications,"  and  did  not  hap- 
pen to  notice,  until  the  book  was  almost  ready  to  go  to 
press,  that  Craik's  error  was  not  'where  he  supposed  it  to  be 
(from  249  onwards),  but  merely  in  numbering  246  and  247, 
which  he  makes,  as  I  have  done,  245  and  246. 

It  is  rather  provoking  to  find  that  I  have  thus  been  at  con- 
siderable trouble  to  correct  (more  Hibernico^  the  imaginary 
error,  while  I  have  retained  the  real  one ;  but  it  cannot  now 
be  helped,  and  luckily  both  errors  are  "  unimportant."  I 
shall  be  pardoned,  of  course,  for  not  distrusting  the  author's 
statement  in  regard  to  his  own  mistakes.  W.  J.  R. 


JULIUS     C^SAR 


PERSONS    REPRESENTED. 


JULIUS  C^SAR. 

OCTAVIUS  C^SAR,    ")       Triumvirs, 
MARCUS  ANTOXIUS,  \  after  the  death 
M.  iEMIL.  LEPIDUS,  J  o/JuliusCmsar. 
CICERO,  PUBLIUS,  P0PILIU8  LENA; 

Se7iators. 
MARCUS  BRUTUS, 
CASSIUS, 
C^iSCA, 
TREBONTUS, 
LIGARIUS, 
DECnrS  BRUTUS, 
METELLUS  CDkLBER, 
CIXXA, 

FLAVIUS  and  ^LARULLUS,  2W6uw*. 
ARTE&IIDORUS,  a  Sophist  of  Ciiidos. 


Conspirators 

against  Julius 

Ceesar. 


A  SOOTHSAYER. 

CINXA,  a  foe*.— Another  POET. 

LUCILIUS,      TITINIUS,       MESSALA, 

Young     CATO,     and     VOLUMNIUS; 

Friends  to  Brutus  and  Cassius. 
VARRO,  CLITUS,  CLAUDIUS,  STRA- 

TO,  LUCIUS,  DARDANIUS;  ServanU 

to  Brutus. 
PINDARUS,  Servant  to  Cassius. 


CALPHUR^^A,  Wi/e  to  Csssar. 
PORTIA,  Wife  to  Brutus. 


Senators,  CmzsNS,  OuABi>fl,ATTKND. 

ANTS,  ETC. 


Scene,  during  a  great  fart  of  the  Play.,  at  Rome ;  after- 
wards at  Sardis  ;  and  near  PhiUppi. 


ACT   I. 


SCENE  I.— Rome.    A  Street. 

Enter  Flavius,  Marullus,  and  a  Rabble  of  Citizens. 

[.    Flav.   Hence!  home,  you  idle  creatures,  get  jou  home. 
Is  this  a  holiday  ?    What !  know  you  not. 
Being  mechanical,  you  ought  not  walk, 

Mpon.n  W •''Cf  ilU^  without  the  sign 

Of  your  profession  }  —  Speak,  what  trade  art  thou? 
I  at.   Why,  Sir,  a  carpenter. 
Mar.   Where  is  thy  leather  apron,  and  thy  rule? 
What  dost  thou  with  thy  best  apparel  on  ?  — 
You,  Sir ;  what  trade  are  you  ? 

(59) 


6o  Julius  C^sar.  [act  i. 

2  Cit.   Truly,  Sir,  in  respect  of  a  fine  workman,  I  am 
but,  as  you  would  say,  a  cobbler. 

Mar.   But  what  trade  art  thou?    Answer  me  directly. 

6.  2  Cit.   A  trade.  Sir,  that,  I  hope,  I  may  use  with  a  safe 
conscience;  which  is,  indeed,  Sir,  a  mender  of  bad  soles. 

7.  Mar.   What  trade,  thou  knave.?  thou  naughty  knave, 

what  trade .'' 

8.  2   Cit.   Nay,  I  beseech  you,  Sir,  Jje  not  out  with  me : 

y^*"  if  iiiiT^£^^  ^^^,>.^^^',  •"•  ^^'^  rnend  you.  """^ 

9.  il/ar-What  Inean^t  thou  by  that.?    Mend  me,  thou 
saucy  fellow ,? 

2  Cit.   Why,  Sir,  cobble  you. 

Flav.  Thou  art  a  cobbler,  art  thou .? 
12.  2  Cit.  Truly,  Sir,  all  that  I  live  by  is  with  tiie  tyL  I 
meddle  with  no  tradesman's  matters,  nor  women's  mat- 
ters, but  with  awl.  I  am,  indeed,  Sir,  a  surgeon  to  old 
shoes ;  when  they  are  in  great  danger,  I  recover  them, 
^s  proper  men  as  ever  trod  upon  neat's  leather  have  gone 
upon  my  handiwork. 

Flav.   But  wherefore  art  not  in  thy  shop  to-day.? 
Why  dost  thou  lead  these  men  about  the  streets .? 

2  Cit.   Truly,  Sir,  to  wear  out  their  shoes,  to  get  my- 
self into  more  work.     But,  indeed.  Sir,  we  make  holiday 
to  see  Cajsar,  and  to  rejoice  in  his  triumph. 
15.     Mar.   Wherefore   rejoice.?    What  conquest  brings   he 
home .? 
What  tributaries  follow  him  to  Rome, 
To  grace  in  captive  bonds  his  chariot  wheels .? 
You  blocks,  you  stones,  you  worse  than  senseless  things  I 
O,  you  hard  hearts,  you  cruel  men  of  Rome, 
Knew  you  not  Pompey  ?    Many  a  time  and  oft 
Have  you  climbed  up  to  walls  and  battlements, 
To  towers  and  windows,  yea,  to  chimney-tops, 
Your  infants  in. your  arms,  and  there  have  sat 
The  live-long  day,  with  patient  expectation, 
To  see  great  Pompey  pass  the  streets  of  Rome : 
And,  when  you  saw  his  chariot  but  appear. 
Have  you  not  made  an  universal  shout, 
That  Tiber  trembled  underneath  her  banks, 
To  hear  the  replication  of  your  sounds 
Made  in  her  concave  shores  ? 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  6i 

And  do  you  now  put  on  your  best  attire  ? 
And  do  you  now  cull  out  a  holiday? 
And  do  you  now  strew  flowers  in  his  way, 
That  comes  in  triumph  over  Pompey's  blood  ? 
Be  gone ! 

Run  to  your  houses,  fall  upon  your  knees, 
Pray  to  the  gods  to  intermit  the  plague 
That  needs  must  light  on  this  ingratitude. 
i6.     Flav.   Go,  go,  good  coitn  try  men,  and,  for  this  fault, 
Assemble  all  the  poor  men  of  your  sort; 
Draw  them  to  Tiber  banks,  and  Aveep  your  tears 
Into  the  channel,  till  the  lowest  stream 
Do  kiss  the  most  exalted  shores  of  all.    \_Exeunt  Citizens. 
'   See,  whe'r  their  basest  metal  be  not  moved  I 
They  vanish  tongue-tied  in  their  guiltiness. 
Go  you  down  that  way  towards  the  Capitol ; 
This  way  will  I.     Disrobe  the  images. 
If  you  do  find  them  decked  with  ceremonies. 

17.  Mar.   May  we  do  so? 

You  know  it  is  the  feast  of  Lupercal. 

18.  Flav.   It  is  no  matter ;  let  no  images 

Be  hung  with  Caesar's  trophies.     I'll  about, 

And  drive  away  the  vulgar  from  the  streets ; 

So  do  you  too,  where  you  perceive  them  thick. 

These  growing  feathers  plucked  from  Csesar's  wing 

Will  make  him  fly  an  ordinary  pitch  ; 

Who  else  would  soar  above  the  view  of  men, 

And  keep  us  all  in  servile  fearfulness.  {Exeunt. 

SCENE  II.  —  The  same.     A  Public  Place. 

Enter,  in  Procession  luith  Music,  C^sar  ;  Antony,  for  the 
course ;  Calphurnia,  Portia,  Decius,  Cicero,  Brutus, 
Cassius,  and  Casca,  a  great  croivd  folloiving;  among 
them  a  Soothsayer. 

CcBS.   Calphurnia,  — 

Casca.    Peace,  ho !  Ceesar  speaks.  \_Music  ceases. 

CcEs.    Calphurnia,  — 
Cal.   Here,  my  lord. 
23.     C<ss.   Stand  you  directly  in  Antonius'  way, 
When  he  doth  run  his  course.  —  Antonius. 


62  Julius  C^sar.  [act  i. 

Ant.  Caesar,  my  lord. 
25.     CcBs.   Forget  not,  in  your  speed,  Antonius, 
To  touch  Calphurnia ;  for  our  elders  say, 
The  barren,  touched  in  this  holy  chase, 
Shake  off  their  sterile  curse. 

Ant.   I  shall  remember : 
When  Csesar  says.  Do  this,  it  is  performed. 

CcBs.   Set  on ;  and  leave  no  ceremony  out.  {^Music* 

Sooth.    Caesar. 

CcBs.    Ha !  who  calls .? 

Casca.   Bid  every  noise  be  still.  —  Peace  yet  again. 

\_Music  ceases. 

CcBs.   Who  is  it  in  the  press  that  calls  on  me  ? 
I  hear  a  tongue,  shriller  than  all  the  music, 
Cry,  Csesar.     Speak ;  Caesar  is  turned  to  hear. 
32.     Sooth.   Beware  the  ides  of  March. 

Cces.   What  man  is  that.f* 
34.     Bru.  A  soothsayer,  bids  you  beware  the  ides  of  March. 

Cces.    Set  him  before  me ;  let  me  see  his  face. 

Cas.   Fellow,  come  from  the  throng  ;  look  upon  Caesar. 

Cess.   What  say'st  thou  to  me  now  ?    Speak  once  again. 

Sooth.   Beware  the  ides  of  March. 
39.     Cces.    He  is  a  dreamer:  let  us  leave  him;  — pass. 

[Sennet.    Exeunt  all  but  Brutus  and  Cassius. 

Cas.  Will  yoii  go  see  the  order  of  the  course? 

Bru.   Not  I. 

Cas.   I  pray  you,  do. 

Bru.   I  am  not  gamesome :  I  do  lack  some  part 
Of  that  quick  spirit  that  is  in  Antony. 
Let  me  not  hinder,  Cassius,  your  desires ; 
I'll  leave  you. 

44.  Cas.   Brutus,  I  do  observe  you  now  of  late : 
I  have  not  from  your  eyes  that  gentleness 
And  shew  of  love  as  I  was  wont  to  have : 
You  bear  too  stubborn  and  too  strange  a  hand 
Over  your  friend  that  loves  you. 

45.  Bru.   Cassius, 

Be  not  deceived  :  if  I  have  veiled  my  look, 
I  turn  the  trouble  of  my  countenance 
Merely  upon  myself.     Vexed  I  am 
Of  late  with  passions  of  some  difference, 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  63 

Conceptions  only  proper  to  myself, 

Which  give  some  soil,  perhaps,  to  my  behaviors  : 

But  let  not  therefore  my  good  friends  be  grieved 

(Among  which  number,  Cassius,  be  you  one)  ; 

Nor  construe  any  further  my  neglect, 

Than  that  poor  Brutus,  with  himself  at  war, 

Forgets  the  shews  of  love  to  other  men. 

46.  Cas.  Then,  Brutus,  I  have  much  mistook  your  passion ; 
By  means  whereof,  this  breast  of  mine  hath  buried 
Thoughts  of  great  value,  worthy  cogitations. 

Tell  me,  good  Brutus,  can  you  see  your  face.? 

47.  Bru.   No,  Cassius  :  for  the  eye  sees  not  itself, 
But  by  reflection,  by  some  other  things. 

48.  Cas.   'Tisjust: 

And  it  is  very  much  lamented,  Brutus, 
That  you  have  no  such  mirrors  as  will  turn 
Your  hidden  worthiness  into  your  eye, 
That  you  might  see  your  shadow.     I  have  heard, 
Where  many  of  the  best  respect  in  Rome 
(Except  immortal  Caesar),  speaking  of  Brutus, 
And  groaning  underneath  this  age's  yoke, 
Have  wished  that  noble  Brutus  had  his  eyes. 

Bru.   Into  what  dangers  would  you  lead  me,  Cassius, 
That  you  would  have  me  seek  into  myself 
For  that  which  is  not  in  me  ! 

50.  Cas.  Therefore,  good  Brutus,  be  prepared  to  hear: 
And,  since  you  know  you  cannot  see  yourself 

So  well  as  by  reflection,  I,  your  glass, 

Will  modestly  discover  to  yourself 

That  of  yourself  which  you  yet  know  not  of. 

And  be  not  jealous  on  me,  gentle  Brutus  : 

Were  I  a  common  laugher,  or  did  use 

To  stale  with  ordinary  oaths  my  love 

To  every  new  protester ;  if  you  know 

That  I  do  fawn  on  men,  and  hug  them  hard. 

And  after  scandal  them  ;  or  if  you  know 

That  I  profess  myself  in  banqueting 

To  all  the  rout,  then  hold  me  dangerous. 

{Flourish  and  shout. 

51.  Bru.   What  means  this  shouting?    I  do  fear,  the  people 
Choose  Caesar  for  their  king. 


64  JyLius  C^SAR.  [act  I. 

Cas.  Aj,  do  yon  fear  it  ? 
Then  must  I  think  jou  would  not  have  it  so. 

53.  Bru.   I  would  not,  Cassius ;  yet  I  love  him  well.  — 
But  wherefore  do  jou  hold  me  here  so  long? 

What  is  it  that  jou  would  impart  to  me  ? 
If  it  be  aught  toward  the  general  good, 
Set  honor  in  one  eje,  and  death  i'  the  other, 
And  I  will  look  on  both  indifferently : 
For,  let  the  gods  so  speed  me,  as  I  love 
The  name  of  honor  more  than  I  fear  death. 

54.  Cas.   I  know  that  virtue  to  be  in  you,  Brutus, 
As  well  as  I  do  know  your  outward  favour. 
Well,  Honor  is  the  subject  of  my  story.  — 

I  cannot  tell  what  you  and  other  men 

Think  of  this  life ;  but,  for  my  single  self, 

I  had  as  lief  not  be  as  live  to  be 

In  awe  of  such  a  thing  as  I  myself. 

I  was  born  free  as  Caesar ;  so  were  you  : 

We  both  have  fed  as  well ;  and  we  can  both 

Endure  the  winter's  cold  as  well  as  he. 

For  once,  upon  a  raw  and  gusty  day, 

The  troubled  Tiber  chafing  with  her  shores, 

Caesar  said  to  me,  Dar'st  thou,  Cassius,  novj 

Leap  hi  ivith  me  into  this  angry  Jlood, 

And  sivitn  to  yonUer  poijit  ?    Upon  the  word. 

Accoutred  as  I  was,  I  plunged  in. 

And  bade  him  follow :  so,  indeed,  he  did. 

The  torrent  roared ;  and  we  did  buffet  it 

WTth  lusty  sinews ;  throwing  it  aside, 

And  stemming  it  with  hearts  of  controversy. 

But  ere  we  could  arrive  the  point  proposed, 

CsEsar  cried.  Help  me,  Cassius,  or  I  sink. 

I,  as  yEneas,  our  great  ancestor. 

Did  from  the  flames  of  Troy  upon  his  shoulder 

The  old  Anchises  bear,  so  from  the  waves  of  Tiber 

Did  I  the  tired  Caesar.     And  this  man 

Is  now  become  a  god;  and  Cassius  is 

A  wretched  creature,  and  must  bend  his  body 

If  Caesar  carelessly  but  nod  on  him. 

He  had  a  fever  when  he  was  in  Spain, 

And,  when  the  fit  was  on  him,  I  did  mark 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  65 

How  he  did  shake  :  'tis  true,  this  god  did  shake : 

His  coward  lips  did  from  their  colour  fly ; 

And  that  same  eye,  whose  bend  doth  awe  the  world, 

Did  lose  his  lustre.     I  did  hear  him  groan  : 

Ay,  and  that  tongue  of  his,  that  bade  the  Romans 

Mark  him,  and  write  his  speeches  in  their  books, 

Alas  !  it  cried,  Give  me  some  drink,  Titinius, 

As  a  sick  girl.     Ye  gods,  it  doth  amaze  me, 

A  man  of  such  a  feeble  temper  should 

So  get  the  start  of  the  majestic  world, 

And  bear  the  palm  alone.  [^Shout.  Flourish. 

55.  Bru.   Another  general  shout ! 

I  do  believe,  that  these  applauses  are 

For  some  new  honors  that  are  heaped  on  CiEsar. 

56.  Cas.   Why,  man,  he  doth  bestride  the  narrow  world 
Like  a  Colossus ;  and  we  petty  men 

Walk  under  his  huge  legs,  and  peep  about 

To  find  ourselves  dishonorable  graves. 

Men  at  some  time  are  masters  of  their  fates : 

The  fault,  dear  Brutus,  is  not  in  our  stars. 

But  in  ourselves,  that  we  are  underlings. 

Brutus  and  Ccesar:  what  should  be  in  that  Ccesarf 

Why  should  that  name  be  sounded  more  than  yours? 

Write  them  together,  yours  is  as  fair  a  name ; 

Sound  them,  it  doth  become  the  mouth  as  well; 

Weigh  them,  it  is  as  heavy;  conjure  with  'em, 

Brutus  will  start  a  spirit  as  soon  as  Ccesar.  \Shoui, 

Now,  in  the  names  of  all  the  gods  at  once, 

Upon  what  meat  doth  this  our  Cajsar  feed. 

That  he  is  grown  so  great .''    Age,  thou  art  shamed  : 

Rome,  thou  hast  lost  the  breed  of  noble  bloods ! 

When  went  there  by  an  age,  since  the  great  flood, 

But  it  was  famed  with  more  than  with  one  man? 

When  could  they  say,  till  now,  that  talked  of  Rome, 

That  her  wide  walls  encompassed  but  one  man? 

Now  is  it  Rome  indeed,  and  room  enough, 

When  there  is  in  it  but  one  only  man. 

O !  you  and  I  have  heard  our  fathers  say. 

There  was  a  Brutus  once,  that  would  have  brooked 

The  eternal  devil  to  keep  his  state  in  Rome 

As  easily  as  a  king. 

5 


66  Julius  C^sar.  [act 

57.  Bru.   That  you  do  love  me,  I  am  nothing  jealous ; 
What  you  would  work  me  to,  I  have  some  aim ; 
How  I  have  thought  of  this,  and  of  these  times, 

I  shall  recount  hereafter ;  for  this  present, 

I  would  not,  so  with  love  I  might  entreat  you, 

Be  any  further  moved.     What  you  have  said, 

I  will  consider;  what  you  have  to  say, 

I  will  with  patience  hear :  and  find  a  time 

Both  meet  to  hear,  and  answer,  such  high  things. 

Till  then,  my  noble  friend,  chew  upon  this  : 

Brutus  had  rather  be  a  villager, 

Than  to  repute  himself  a  son  of  Rome 

Under  these  hard  conditions  as  this  time 

Is  like  to  lay  upon  us. 

58.  Cas.   I  am  glad,  that  my  weak  words 

Have  struck  but  this  much  shew  of  fire  from  Brutus. 
Re-enter  C^sar  and  his  Train. 
Bru.   The  games  are  done  and  Cajsar  is  returning. 

60.  Cas.  As  they  pass  by,  pluck  Casca  by  the  sleeve; 
And  he  will,  after  his  sour  fashion,  tell  you 

What  hath  proceeded  worthy  note  to-day. 

61.  Bru.   I  will  do  so.  —  But,  look  you,  Cassius, 
The  angry  spot  doth  glow  on  Csesar's  brow, 
And  all  the  rest  look  like  a  chidden  train : 
Calphurnia's  cheek  is  pale ;  and  Cicero 
Looks  with  such  ferret  and  such  fiery  eyes, 
As  we  have  seen  him  in  the  Capitol, 

Being  crossed  in  conference  by  some  senators, 

62.  Cas.   Casca  will  tell  us  what  the  matter  is. 
Cces.   Antonius. 

Ant.   Ccesar. 

65.  Cces.   Let  me  have  men  about  me  that  are  fat; 
Sleek-headed  men,  and  such  as  sleep  o'  nights : 
Yond  Cassius  has  a  lean  and  hungry  look ; 

He  thinks  too  much  :  such  men  are  dangerous. 

66.  Ant.   Fear  him  not,  Caesar;  he's  not  dangerous. 
He  is  a  noble  Roman,  and  well  given. 

67.  Cces.  Would  he  were  fatter.  —  But  I  fear  him  not. 
Yet,  if  my  name  were  liable  to  fear, 

I  do  not  know  the  man  I  should  avoid 

So  soon  as  that  spare  Cassius.     He  reads  much; 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  67 

He  is  a  great  observer,  and  he  looks 

Quite  through  the  deeds  of  men  :  he  loves  no  plajs, 

As  thou  dost,  Antony;  he  hears  no  music: 

Seldom  he  smiles ;  and  smiles  in  such  a  sort, 

As  if  he  mocked  himself,  and  scorned  his  spirit 

That  could  be  moved  to  smile  at  anything. 

Such  men  as  he  be  never  at  heart's  ease, 

Whiles  they  behold  a  greater  than  themselves ; 

And  therefore  are  they  very  dangerous. 

I  rather  tell  thee  what  is  to  be  feared 

Than  what  I  fear ;  for  always  I  am  Caesar. 

Come  on  my  right  hand,  for  this  ear  is  deaf, 

And  tell  me  truly  what  thou  think'st  of  him. 

\_Sennet.    Exeunt  C^sar  and  his  Train.    Casca  stays 
behind. 

Casca.  You  pulled  me  by  the  cloak :  would  you  speak 
with  me  } 
69.     Bru.   Ay,  Casca;  tell  us  what  hath  chanced  to-day, 
That  Caesar  looks  so  sad. 

Casca.  Why,  you  were  with  him,  were  yOu  not? 

Bru.   I  should  not  then  ask  Casca  what  had  chanced. 

Casca.  Why,  there  was  a  crown  offered  him  :  and,  being 
offered  him,  he  put  it  by  with  the  back  of  his  hand,  thus; 
and  then  the  people  fell  a-shouting. 

Bru.   What  was  the  second  noise  for? 

Casca.    Why,  for  that  too. 

Cas.   They  shouted  thrice  :  what  was  the  last  cry  for  ? 

Casca.   Why,  for  that  too. 

Bru.   Was  the  crown  offered  him  thrice  ? 
78.     Casca.   Ay,  marry,  was't,  and  he  put  it  by  thrice,  every 
time  gentler  than  other;    and,  at  every  putting  by,  mine 
honest  neighbours  shouted. 

Cas.   Who  offered  him  the  crown  ? 

Casca.   Why,   Antony. 

Bru.  Tell  us  the  manner  of  it,  gentle  Casca. 
82.  Casca.  I  can  as  well  be  hanged,  as  tell  the  manner  of 
it :  it  was  mere  foolery,  I  did  not  mark  it.  I  saw  Mark 
Antony  offer  him  a  crown; — yet  'twas  not  a  crown 
neither,  'twas  one  of  these  coronets;  —  and,  as  I  told 
you,  he  put  it  by  once ;  but,  for  all  that,  to  my  thinking, 
he  would  fain  have  had  it.     Then  he  offered  it  to  him 


68  Julius  C^sar.  [act  i. 

again ;  then  he  put  it  by  again ;  but,  to  my  thinking,  he 
was  very  loath  to  lay  his  fingers  off  it.  And  then  he 
offered  it  the  third  time ;  he  put  it  the  third  time  by :  and 
still  as  he  refused  it,  the  rabblement  shouted,  and  clapped 
their  chopped  hands,  and  threw  up  their  sweaty  night- 
caps, and  uttered  such  a  deal  of  stinking  breath  because 
Csesar  refused  the  crown,  that  it  had  almost  choked  Cae- 
sar; for  he  swooned,  and  fell  down  at  it.  And,  for  my 
own  part,  I  durst  not  laugh,  for  fear  of  opening  my  lips, 
and  receiving  the  bad  air. 
8^.  Cas.  But,  soft,  I  pray  you.  What !  did  Csesar  swoon  } 
Casca.  He  fell  down  in  the  market-place,  and  foamed 
at  mouth,  and  was  speechless. 

85.  Bru.   'Tis  very  like  :  he  hath  the  falling  sickness. 

86.  Cas.   No,  Csesar  hath  it  not;  but  you  and  I, 
And  honest  Casca,  we  have  the  falling  sickness. 

87.  Casca.  I  know  not  what  you  mean  by  that;  but  I  am 
sure  Caesar  fell  down.  If  the  tag-rag  people  did  not  clap 
him,  and  hiss  him,  according  as  he  pleased  and  displeased 
them,  as  they  use  to  do  the  players  in  the  theatre,  I  am  no 
true  man. 

Bru.  What  said  he,  when  he  came  unto  himself.'' 
89.  Casca.  Marry,  before  he  fell  down,  when  he  perceived 
the  common  herd  was  glad  he  refused  the  crown,  he 
plucked  me  ope  his  doublet,  and  offered  them  his  throat 
to  cut.  —  An  I  had  been  a  man  of  any  occupation,  if  I 
would  not  have  taken  him  at  a  word,  I  would  I  might  go 
to  hell  among  the  rogues.  And  so  he  fell.  When  he  came 
to  himself  again,  he  said,  if  he  had  done  or  said  any- 
thing amiss,  he  desired  their  worships  to  think  it  was  his 
infirmity.  Three  or  four  wenches,  where  I  stood,  cried, 
Alas,  good soull —  and  forgave  him  with  all  their  hearts. 
But  there's  no  heed  to  be  taken  of  them :  if  Caesar  had 
stabbed  their  mothers,  they  would  have  done  no  less. 

Bru.  And  after  that  he  came  thus  sad  away? 

Casca.   Ay. 

Cas.   Did  Cicero  say  anything? 

Casca.  Ay,  he  spoke  Greek. 

Cas.   To  what  effect? 
95.     Casca.  Nay,  an  I  tell  you  that,  I'll  ne'er  look  you  i*  the 
face  again.    But  those  that  understood  him  smiled  at  one 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  69 

another,  and  shook  their  heads ;  but,  for  my  own  part, 
it  was  Greek  to  me.  I  could  tell  you  more  news  too : 
Marullus  and  Flavins,  for  pulling  scarfs  off  Caesar's  im- 
ages, are  put  to  silence.  Fare  you  well.  There  was  more 
foolery  yet,  if  I  could  remember  it. 

Cas.   Will  you  sup  with  me  to-night,  Casca? 
97.     Casca.   No,  I  am  promised  forth. 

Cas.   Will  you  dine  with  me  to-morrow  ? 

Casca.  Ay,  if  I  be  alive,  and  your  mind  hold,  and  your 
dinner  worth  the  eating. 

Cas.   Good  :  I  will  expect  you. 

Casca.   Do  so.     Farewell,  both.  \^Exit  CascA. 

102.  Bru.   What  a  blunt  fellow  is  this  grown  to  be! 
He  was  quick  mettle  when  he  went  to  school. 

103.  Cas.    So  is  he  now,  in  execution 
Of  any  bold  or  noble  enterprise. 
However  he  puts  on  this  tardy  form. 
This  rudeness  is  a  sauce  to  his  good  wit, 
Which  gives  men  stomach  to  digest  his  words 
With  better  appetite. 

104.  Bru.  And  so  it  is.     For  this  time  I  will  leave  you : 
To-morrow  if  you  please  to  speak  with  me, 

I  will  come  home  to  you ;  or,  if  you  will. 
Come  home  to  me,  and  I  will  wait  for  you. 

105.  Cas.   I  will  do  so :  — till  then,  think  of  the  world. 

\_Exii  Brutus. 
Well,  Brutus,  thou  art  noble ;  yei^  I  see, 
Thy  honorable  metal  may  be  wrought 
From  that  it  is  disposed  :  therefore  it  is  meet 
That  noble  minds  keep  ever  with  their  likes ; 
For  who  so  firm,  that  cannot  be  seduced? 
Csesar  doth  bear  me  hard ;  but  he  loves  Brutus  : 
If  I  were  Brutus  now,  and  he  were  Cassius, 
He  should  not  humour  me.     I  will  this  night, 
In  several  hands,  in  at  his  windows  throw, 
As  if  they  came  from  several  citizens. 
Writings  all  tending  to  the  great  opinion 
That  Rome  holds  of  his  name ;  wherein  obscurely 
Caesar's  ambition  shall  be  glanced  at : 
And,  after  this,  let  Caesar  seat  him  sure ; 
For  we  will  shake  him,  or  worse  days  endure.         [ExiL 


7o  Julius  C^sar.  [act  i. 


SCENE    III.  —  The  same.    A  Street. 

Thunder  and  Lightning.    Enter ^  from  oj>;posite  sideSy  Casca, 
tvith  his  sword  drawn,  and  Cicero. 

io6.     Cic.   Good  even,  Casca.     Brought  jou  Caesar  home  ? 
Why  are  jou  breathless  }   and  why  stare  you  so  "i 

107.  Casca.  Are  not  you  moved,  when  all  the  sway  of  earth 
Shakes,  like  a  thing  unfirm  }    O  Cicero,       g 

I  have  seen  tempests,  when  the  scolding  winds 
Have  rived  the  knotty  oaks ;  and  I  have  seen 
The  ambitious  ocean  swell,  and  rage,  and  foam, 
To  be  exalted  with  the  threatening  clouds  : 
But  never  till  to-night,  never  till  now, 
Did  I  go  through  a  tempest  dropping  fire. 
Either  there  is  a  civil  strife  in  heaven, 
Or  else  the  world,  too  saucy  with  the  gods, 
Incenses  them  to  send  destruction. 

108.  Cic.   Why,  saw  you  anything  more  wonderful? 

109.  Casca.  A  common  slave  (you  know  him  well  by  sight) 
Held  up  his  left  hand,  which  did  flame  and  burn 

Like  twenty  torches  joined  ;  and  yet  his  hand. 
Not  sensible  of  fire,  remained  unscorched. 
Besides  (I  have  not  since  put  up  my  sword). 
Against  the  Capitoll  met  a  lion, 
Wh9  glared  upon  me,  and  went  surly  by, 
Without  annoying  me  :  and  there  were  drawn 
Upon  a  heap  a  hundred  ghastly  women, 
Transformed  with  their  fear;  who  swore  they  saw 
Men  all  in  fire  walk  up  and  down  the  streets. 
And  yesterday  the  birdof  night  4id  sit, 
Even  at  noonday,  upon  the  market-place, 
Hooting  and  shrieking.     When  these  prodigies 
Do  so  conjointly  meet,  let  not  men  say. 
These  are  their  reasons,  —  they  are  natural ; 
For,  I  believe,  they  are  portentous  things 
Unto  the  climate  that  they  point  upon. 
no.     Cic.   Indeed,  it  is  a  strange-disposed  time: 
But  men  may  construe  things  after  their  fashion, 
Clean  from  the  purpose  of  the  things  themselves. 
'  Comes  Cse'sar  to  the  Capitol  to-morrow? 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  71 

Casca.   He  doth ;  for  he  did  bid  Antonius 
Send  word  to  you,  he  would  be  there  to-morrow. 
112.     Ctc.   Good  night,  then,  Casca  :  this  disturbed  sky 
Is  not  to  walk  in. 

Casca.   Farewell,  Cicero.  [^Exit  Cicero. 

Enter  Cassius. 

Cas.  Who's  there.? 

Casca.   A  Roman. 

Cas.   Casca,  by  your  voice. 
117.     Casca.  Your  ear  is  good.     Cassius,  what  a  night  is 
this! 

Cas.  A  very  pleasing  night  to  honest  men. 

Casca.   Who  ever  knew  the  heavens  menace  so  } 
120.     Cas.   Those  that  have  known  the  earth  so  full  of  faults. 
For  my  part,  I  have  walked  about  the  streets, 
Submitting  me  unto  the  perilous  night; 
And,  thus  unbraced,  Casca,  as  you  see. 
Have  bared  my  bosom  to  the  thunder-stone  : 
And,  when  the  cross  blue  lightning  seemed  to  open 
The  breast  of  heaven,  I  did  present  myself 
Even  in  the  aim  and  very  flash  of  it. 

Casca.   But  wherefore  did  you   so  much   tempt  the 
heavens? 
It  is  the  part  of  men  to  fear  and  tremble, 
When  the  most  mighty  gods,  by  tokens,  send 
Such  dreadful  heralds  to  astonish  us. 
122.     Cas.   You  are  dull,  Casca;  and  those  sparks  of  life 
That  should  be  in  a  Roman  you  do  want. 
Or  else  you  use  not.     You  look  pale,  and  gaze, 
And  put  on  fear,  and  cast  yourself  in  wonder, 
To  see  the  strange  impatience  of  the  heavens : 
But  if  you  would  consider  the  true  cause. 
Why  all  these  fires,  why  all  these  gliding  ghosts, 
Why  birds,  and  beasts,  from  quality  and  kind ; 
Why  old  men,  fools,  and  children  calculate ; 
Why  all  these  things  change  from  their  ordinance, 
Their  natures,  and  pre-formed  faculties. 
To  monstrous  quality ;  why,  you  shall  find. 
That  heaven  hath  infused  them  with  these  spirits, 
To  ma^e  them  instruments  of  fear  and  warning 


72  Julius  C^sar.  [act  i. 

Unto  some  monstroHJSLslate, — Nowi  could  I,  Casca, 
'"""TTaTTref'tOtlTee  a  man  most  like  this  dreadful  night ; 
That  thunders,  lightens,  opens  graves,  and  roars, 
As  doth  the  lion,  in  the  Capitol : 
A  man  no  mightier  than  thyself  or  me, 
In  personal  action  ;  yet_proiiigiQUS_gjcown, 
And  fearful,  as  these  strange  eruptions  are. 

Casca.   'Tis  Csesar  that  you  mean  :  is  it  not,  Cassius? 
124.     Cas.   Let  it  be  who  it  is  :  for  Romans  now 
H&ve  thews  and  limbs  like  to  their  ancestors. 
But,  wbe'the  while  I  our  fathers^  minds  are  dead, 
And  we  are  governed  with  our  mothers'  spirits ; 
Our  yoke  and  sufferance  show  us  womanish. 

Casca.  Indeed,  they  say,  the  senators  to-morrow 
Mean  to  establish  Caesar  as  a  king : 
And  he  shall  wear  his  crown  by  sea  and  land, 
In  every  place,  save  here  in  Italy. 

126.  Cas.   I  know  where  I  will  wear  this  dagger,  then ; 
Cassius  from  bondage  will  deliver  Cassius  : 
Therein,  ye  gods,  you  make  the  weak  most  strong; 
Therein,  ye  gods,  you  tyrants  do  defeat. 

Nor  stony  tower,  nor  walls  of  beaten  brass, 
Nor  airless  dungeon,  nor  strong  links  of  iron, 
Can  be  retentive  to  the  strength  of  spirit; 
"But  life,  being  weary  of  these  worldly  bars. 
Never  lacks  power  to  dismiss  itself. 
If  I  know  this,  know  all  the  world  besides. 
That  part  of  tyranny  that  I  do  bear 
I  can  shake  off  at  pleasure.  {^Thunder  still, 

127.  Casca.    So  can  I  : 

So  every  bondman  in  his  own  hand  bears 
The  power  to  cancel  his  captivity. 

128.  Cas.    And  why  should  Caesar  be  a  tyrant,  then? 
Poor  man !  I  know,  he  would  not  be  a  wolf. 

But  that  he  sees  the  Romans  are  but  sheep  : 
He  were  no  lion,  were  not  Romans  hinds. 
Those  that  with  haste  will  make  a  mighty  fire' 
Begin  it  with  weak  straws  :  what  trash  is  Rome, 
What  rubbish,  and  what  offal,  when  it  serves 
For  the  base  matter  to  illuminate 
So  vile  a  thing  as  Csesar !     But,  O,  grief  I  • 


I 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  73 

Where  hast  thou  led  me  ?    I,  perhaps,  speak  this 
Before  a  willing  bondman  :  then  I  know 
My  answer  must  be  made.     But  I  am  armed, 
And  dangers  are  to  me  indifferent. 

129.  Ca^ca.   You  speak  to  Casca ;  and  to  such  a  man, 
That  is  no  fleering  tell-tale.     Hold,  my  hand : 

Be  factious  for  redress  of  all  these  griefs, 
And  I  will  set  this  foot  of  mine  as  far 
As  who  goes  farthest. 

130.  Cas.   There's  a  bargain  made. 

Now  know  you,  Casca,  I  have  moved  already 

Some  certain  of  the  noblest-minded  Romans 

To  undergo,  with  me,  an  enterprise 

Of  honorable-dangerous  consequence ; 

And  I  do  know  by  this  they  stay  for  me 

In  Pompey's  porch  :  for  now,  this  fearful  night, 

There  is  no  stir  or  walking  in  the  streets ; 

And  the  complexion  of  the  element 

In  favour 's  like  the  work  we  have  in  hand, 

Most  bloody,  fiery,  and  most  terrible. 

Enter  Ciistna. 

Casca.  Stand  close  awhile,  for  here  comes  one  in  haste. 
Cas.   'Tis  Cinna,  I  do  know  him  by  his  gait; 
He  is  a  friend.  —  Cinna,  where  haste  you  so.^ 

Cin.  To  find  out  you.    Who's  that?  Metellus  Cimber? 

134.  Cas.   No,  it  is  Casca ;  one  incorporate 

To  our  attempts.     Am  I  not  staid  for,  Cinna. ^ 

135.  Cin.   I  am  glad  on't.     What  a  fearful  night  is  this ! 
There's  two  or  three  of  us  have  seen  strange  sights. 

136.  Cas.  Am  I  not  staid  for  ?    Tell  me. 

137.  Cin.   Yes,  you  are.  — 
O  Cassius,  if  you  could 

But  win  the  noble  Brutus  to  our  party  I 

138.  Cas.   Be  you  content.     Good  Cinna,  take  this  paper, 
And  look  you  lay  it  in  the  praetor's  chair, 

Where  Brutus  may  but  find  it ;  and  throw  this 

In  at  his  window :  set  this  up  with  wax 

Upon  old  Brutus'  statue  :  all  this  done, 

Repair  to  Pompey's  porch,  where  you  shall  find  us. 

Is  Decius  Brutus,  and  Trebonius  there  } 


74  Julius  C^sar.  [act  n. 

139.  Ctn.  All  but  Metellus  Cimber ;  and  he's  gone 
To  seek  you  at  your  house.     Well,  I  will  hie, 
And  so  bestow  these  papers  as  you  bade  me. 

140.  Cas.   That  done,  repair  to  Pompey's  theatre. 

\_Exit  CiNNA. 
Come,  Casca,  you  and  I  will  yet,  ere  day. 
See  Brutus  at  his  house :  three  parts  of  him 
Is  ours  already;  and  the  man  entire. 
Upon  the  next  encounter,  yields  him  ours. 

Casca.   O,  he  sits  high  in  all  the  people's  hearts ; 
And  that  which  would  appear  offence  in  us, 
His  countenance,  like  richest  alchemy. 
Will  change  to  virtue,  and  to  worthiness. 
142.     Cas.    Him,  and  his  worth,  and  our  great  need  of  him, 
You  have  right  well  conceited.     Let  us  go, 
For  it  is  after  midnight ;  and,  ere  day, 
We  will  awake  him,  and  be  sure  of  him.  [Exeunt, 


ACT  II. 
SCENE  I,  —  The  same.    Brutus's  Orchard. 

Enter  Brutus. 

143.    Bru.  What,  Lucius !  ho  I 

I  cannot,  by  the  progress  of  the  stars, 
^  Gixe  gue«&  how joeaiUo day. — Lucius,  I  say!  — 
I  would  it  were  my  fault  to  sleep  so  soundly.  — 
When,  Lucius  ?  when  ?    Awake,  I  say  1     What,  Lucius  I 

Enter  Lucius. 

Luc.   Called  you,  my  lord  ? 

Bru.   Get  me  a  taper  in  my  study,  Lucius : 
When  it  is  lighted,  come  and  call  me  here. 

Luc.   I  will,  my  lord.  {Exit, 

X47.     Bru.  It  must  be  by  his  death :  and,  for  my  part, 
I  know  no  personal  cause  to  spurn  at  him. 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  75 

But  for  the  general.     He  would  be  crowned :  — 

liow  that  might  change  his  nature,  there's  the  question. 

It  is  the  bright  daj  that  brings  forth  the  adder ; 

And  that  craves  wary  walking.     Crown  him?  —  that;  — 

And  then,  I  grant,  we  put  a  sting  in  him, 

That  at  his  will  he  may  do  danger  with. 

The  abuse  of  greatness  is,  when  it  disjoins 

Remorse  from  power;  and,  to  speak  truth  of  Caesar, 

I  have  not  known  when  his  affections  swayed 

More  than  his  reason.     But  'tis  a  common  proof, 

That  lowliness  is  young  ambition's  ladder, 

Whereto  the  climber  upward  turns  his  face  : 

But  when  he  once  attains  the  upmost  round, 

He  then  unto  the  ladder  turns  his  back. 

Looks  in  the  clouds,  scorning  the  base  degrees 

By  which  he  did  ascend.     So  Caesar  may. 

Then,  lest  he  may,  prevent.     And,  since  the  quarrel 

Will  bear  no  colour  for  the  thing  he  is. 

Fashion  it  thus ;  that  what  he  is,  augmented, 

Would  run  to  these  and  these  extremities  : 

And  therefore  think  him  as  a  serpent's  eggy 

Which,  hatched,  would,  as  his  kind,  g^ow  mischievous; 

And  kill  him  in  the  shell. 

Re-enter  Lucius. 

148.  Luc.  The  taper  burneth  in  your  closet.  Sir. 
Searching  the  window  for  a  flint,  I  found 
This  paper,  thus  sealed  up ;  and,  I  am  sure. 
It  did  not  lie  there  when  I  went  to  bed. 

[  Gives  htm  the  letter, 

149.  Bru.   Get  you  to  bed  again ;  it  is  not  day. 
Is  not  to-morrow,  boy,  the  ides  of  March  ? 

Luc.   I  know  not.  Sir. 

Bru.   Look  in  the  calendar,  and  bring  me  word. 
Luc.   I  will.  Sir.  lExt't, 

153.     Bru.  The  exhalations,  whizzing  in  the  air, 
Give  so  much  light,  that  I  may  read  by  them. 

[  opens  the  letter ^  and  reads. 
'■''Brutus^  thou  sleep'' st ;  aivake^  and  see  thyself. 

Shall  Rome^  &c.     Sfeak,  strike^  redress  !" 

Brutus,  thou  sleep' st ;  awake. 


*f6  Julius  C^sar.  [act  ii. 

Such  instigations  have  been  often  dropped 

Where  I  have  took  them  up. 

Shall  Rome,  drc.     Thus  must  I  piece  it  out :  — 

Shall  Rome  stand  under  one  man's  awe?  What!  Rome? 

My  ancestors  did  from  the  streets  of  Rome 

The  Tarquin  drive,  when  he  was  called  a  king. 

SJ>eak,  strike,  redress  ! 

Am  I  entreated 

To  speak,  and  strike  }    O  Rome !  I  make  thee  promise, 

If  the  redress  will  follow,  thou  receivest 

Thy  full  petition  at  the  hand  of  Brutus. 

Re-enter  Lucius. 

154.  Luc.   Sir,  March  is  wasted  fourteen  days. 

[^Knock  ivtthin. 

155.  Bru,  'Tis  good.    Go  to  the  gate ;  somebody  knocks. 

\_Extt  Lucius. 
Since  Cassius  first  did  whet  me  against  Caesar, 
I  have  not  slept. 

Between  the  acting  of  a  dreadful  thing 
And  the  first  motion,  all  the  interim  is 
Like  a  phantasma,  or  a  hideous  dream : 
The  genius,  and  the  mortal  instruments. 
Are  then  in  council ;  and  the  state  of  a  mail) 
Like  to  a  little  kingdom,  suffers  then 
The  nature  of  an  insurrection. 

Re-enter  Lucius. 

156.  Luc.   Sir,  'tis  your  brother  Cassius  at  the  door, 
Who  doth  desire  to  see  you. 

Bru.   Is  he  alone  ? 
158.    Luc.  No,  Sir,  there  are  moe  with  him. 

Bru.  Do  you  know  them  ? 
160.    Luc.  No,  Sir ;  their  hats  are  plucked  about  their  ears, 

And  half  their  faces  buried  in  their  cloaks, 

That  by  no  means  I  may  discover  them 

By  any  mark  of  favour. 
i6i.    Bru.  Let  'em  enter.  [^Exit  Lucius. 

They  are  the  faction.     O  Conspiracy ! 

Sham'st  thou  to  show  thy  dangerous  brow  by  night, 

When  evils  are  most  free !    O,  then,  by  day, 


gc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  77 

Where  wilt  thou  find  a  cavarn  dark  enough 

To  mask  thy  monstrous  visage?  Seek  none,  Conspiracy; 

Hide  it  in  smiles  and  affability : 

For,  if  thou  path,  thy  native  semblance  on, 

Not  Erebus  itself  were  dim  enough 

To  hide  thee  from  prevention. 

Enter  Cassius,  Casca,  Decius,  Cinna,  Metellus  Cim- 
BER,  and  Trebonius. 

162.     Cas.   I  think  we  are  too  bold  upon  your  rest : 
Good  morrow,  Brutus  :  do  we  trouble  you  ? 

Bru,   I  have  been  up  this  hour;  awake,  all  night. 
Know  I  these  men  that  come  along  with  you? 

Cas.  Yes,  every  man  of  them ;  and  no  man  here 
But  honors  you ;  and  every  one  doth  wish 
You  had  but  that  opinion  of  yourself 
Which  every  noble  Roman  bears  of  you. 
This  is  Trebonius. 

Bru.   He  is  welcome  hither. 

Cas.  This,  Decius  Brutus. 

Bru.   He  is  welcome  too. 
168.     Cas.  This,  Casca;    this,  Cinna;    and  this,  Metellus 
Cimber. 

Bru.   They  are  all  welcome. 
What  watchful  cares  do  interpose  themselves 
Betwixt  your  eyes  and  night? 

Cas.   Shall  I  entreat  a  word?  [^They  'whis^er, 

Dec.   Here  lies  the  east :  doth  not  the  day  break  here  ? 

Casca.   No. 

173.  Cin.   O,  pardon.  Sir,  it  doth ;  and  yon  grey  lines, 
That  fret  the  clouds,  are  messengers  of  day. 

174.  Casca.  You  shall  confess  that  you  are  both  deceived. 
Here,  as  I  point  my  sword,  the  sun  arises ; 

Which  is  a  great  way  growing  on  the  south. 
Weighing  the  youthful  season  of  the  year. 
Some  two  months  hence,  up  higher  toward  the  north 
He  first  presents  his  fire ;  and  the  high  east 
Stands,  as  the  Capitol,  directly  here. 

175.  Bru.   Give  me  your  hands  all  over,  one  by  one. 
Cas.  And  let  us  swear  our  resolution. 

177.    Bru.  No,  not  an  oath  :  if  not  the  face  of  men, 


78  Julius  C^sar.  [act  ii. 

The  sufferance  of  our  souls,  the  time's  abuse,  — 
If  these  be  motives  weak,  break  off  betimes, 
And  every  man  hence  to  his  idle  bed ; 
So  let  high-sighted  tyranny  range  on. 
Till  each  man  drop  by  lottery.     But  if  these, 
As  I  am  sure  they  do,  bear  fire  enough 
To  kindle  cowards,  and  to  steel  with  valour 
The  melting  spirits  of  women ;  then,  countrymen, 
What  need  we  any  spur,  but  our  own  cause, 
To  prick  us  to  redress  ?  what  other  bond. 
Than  secret  Romans,  that  have  spoke  the  wordi 
And  will  not  palter?  and  what  other  oath, 
Than  honesty  to  honesty  engaged 
That  this  shall  be,  or  we  will  fall  for  it? 
Swear  priests,  and  cowards,  and  men  cautelous, 
Old  feeble  carrions,  and  such  suffering  souls 
That  welcome  wrongs  ;  unto  bad  causes  swear 
Such  creatures  as  men  doubt :  but  do  not  stain 
The  even  virtue  of  our  enterprise. 
Nor  the  insuppressive  metal  of  our  spirits. 
To  think  that  or  our  cause  or  our  performance 
Did  need  an  oath ;  when  every  drop  of  blood> 
That  every  Roman  bears,  and  nobly  bears, 
Is  guilty  of  a  several  bastardy. 
If  he  do  break  the  smallest  particle 
Of  any  promise  that  hath  passed  from  him. 
178.     Cas.   But  what  of  Cicero  ?    Shall  we  sound  him? 
I  think  he  will  stand  very  strong  with  us. 

Casca.   Let  us  not  leave  him  out. 

Cin.   No,  by  no  means. 

181.  Met.   O,  let  us  have  him ;  for  his  silver  hairs 
Will  purchase  us  a  good  opinion. 

And  buy  men's  voices  to  commend  our  deeds : 
It  shall  be  said,  his  judgment  ruled  our  hands; 
Our  youths  and  wildness  shall  no  whit  appear, 
But  all  be  buried  in  his  gravity. 

182.  Bru.   O,  name  him  not;  let  us  not  break  with  him; 
For  he  will  never  follow  anything 

That  other  men  begin. 
Cas.  Then  leave  him  out. 
Casca.  Indeed,  he  is  not  fit. 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  79 

Dec.   Shall  no  man  else  be  touched  but  only  Caesar? 

186.  Cas.   Decius,  well  urged. — I  think  it  is  not  meet, 
Mark  Antony,  so  well  beloved  of  Caesar, 

Should  outlive  Caesar.     We  shall  find  of  him 
A  shrewd  contriver ;  and,  you  know,  his  means, 
If  he  improve  them,  may  well  stretch  so  far 
As  to  annoy  us  all :  which  to  prevent, 
Let  Antony  and  Caesar  fall  together. 

187.  Bru.   Our  course  will  seem  too  bloody,  Caius  Cassius, 
To  cut  the  head  off,  and  then  hack  the  limbs, 

Like  wrath  in  death,  and  envy  afterwards  : 
For  Antony  is  but  a  limb  of  Caesar. 
Let  us  be  sacrificers,  but  not  butchers,  Caius. 
We  all  stand  up  against  the  spirit  of  Caesar; 
And  in  the  spirit  of  men  there  is  no  blood : 
O,  that  we  then  could  come  by  Caesar's  spirit. 
And  not  dismember  Caesar!     But,  alas, 
Caesar  must  bleed  for  it!     And,  gentle  friends. 
Let's  kill  him  boldly,  but  not  wrathfully; 
Let's  carve  him  as  a  dish  fit  for  the  gods. 
Not  hew  him  as  a  carcass  fit  for  hounds : 
And  let  our  hearts,  as  subtle  masters  do. 
Stir  up  their  servants  to  an  act  of  rage, 
And  after  seem  to  chide  'em.     This  shall  mark 
Our  purpose  necessary,  and  not  envious  : 
Wliich  so  appearing  to  the  common  eyes, 
We  shall  be  called  purgers,  not  murderers. 
And  for  Mark  Antony,  think  not  of  him ; 
For  he  can  do  no  more  than  Caesar's  arm 
When  Caesar's  head  is  off. 

188.  Cas.   Yet  I  do  fear  him  : 

For  in  the  ingrafted  love  he  bears  to  Caesar, 

189.  Bru.   Alas,  good  Cassius,  do  not  think  of  him  : 
If  he  loves  Cjesar,  all  that  he  can  do 

Is  to  himself,  —  take  thought,  and  die  for  Caesar : 
And  that  were  much  he  should ;  for  he  is  given 
To  sports,  to  wildness,  and  much  company. 

190.  Treb.   There  is  no  fear  in  him ;  let  him  not  die ; 
For  he  will  live,  and  laugh  at  this  hereafter. 

{^Clock  strikes, 
Bru.  Peace,  count  the  clock. 


8o  Julius  C^sar,  [act  ii. 

192.     Cas.  The  clock  hath  stricken  three. 
Tred.   'Tis  time  to  part. 

194.  Cas.  But  it  is  doubtful  jet 

Whether  Caesar  will  come  forth  to-day  or  no : 
For  he  is  superstitious  grown  of  late ; 
Quite  from  the  main  opinion  he  held  once 
Of  fantasy,  of  dreams,  and  ceremonies. 
It  may  be,  these  apparent  prodigies, 
The  unaccustomed  terror  of  this  night, 
And  the  persuasion  of  his  augurers, 
May  hold  him  from  the  Capitol  to-day. 

195.  £>ec.  Never  fear  that.     If  he  be  so  resolved, 
I  can  o'ersway  him  :  for  he  loves  to  hear 
That  unicorns  may  be  betrayed  with  trees. 
And  bears  with  glasses,  elephants  with  holes, 
Lions  with  toils,  and  men  with  flatterers ; 
But,  when  I  tell  him  he  hates  flatterers,  ' 
He  says  he  does ;  being  then  most  flattered. 
Let  me  work  : 

For  I  can  give  his  humour  the  true  bent; 
And  I  will  bring  him  to  the  Capitol. 

Cas.   Nay,  we  will  all  of  us  be  there  to  fetch  him. 
197.     Bru.   By  the  eighth  hour :  is  that  the  uttermost? 

Czn.   Be  that  the  uttermost,  and  fail  not  then. 

199.  Mei.   Caius  Ligarius  doth  bear  Caesar  hard. 
Who  rated  him  for  speaking  well  of  Pompey ; 
I  wonder  none  of  you  have  thought  of  him. 

200.  Bru.   Now,  good  Metellus,  go  along  by  him : 
He  loves  me  well,  and  I  have  given  him  reasons ; 
Send  him  but  hither,  and  I'll  fashion  him. 

201.  Cas.  The  morning  comes  upon  us:  we'll  leave  you, 

Brutus :  — 
And,  friends,  disperse  yourselves  :  but  all  remember 
What  you  have  said,  and  show  yourselves  true  Romans. 

202.  Bru.   Good  gentlemen,  look  fresh  and  merrily ; 
Let  not  our  looks  put  on  our  purposes  : 

But  bear  it  as  our  Roman  actors  do, 

With  untired  spirits,  and  formal  constancy : 

And  so,  good  morrow  to  you  every  one. 

[Exeunt  all  but  Brutus. 
Boy  I  Lucius  I  —  Fast  asleep  ?    It  is  no  matter ; 


r 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  8i 

Enjoy  the  heavy  honey-dew  of  slumber : 
Thou  hast  no  figures,  nor  no  fantasies, 
Which  busy  care  draws  in  the  brains  of  men; 
Therefore  thou  sleep'st  so  sound. 

Enter  Portia. 

Por.  Brutus,  my  lord  ! 

Bru.   Portia,  what  mean  you?    Wherefore  rise  you 
now  ? 
It  is  not  for  your  health,  thus  to  commit 
Your  weak  condition  to  the  raw-cold  morning. 
205.     Por.   Nor  for  yours  neither.    You've  ungently,  Brutus, 
Stole  from  my  bed  :  and  yesternight,  at  supper, 
You  suddenly  arose,  and  walked  about. 
Musing,  and  sighing,  with  your  arms  across : 
And,  when  I  asked  you  what  the  matter  was, 
You  stared  upon  me  with  ungentle  looks. 
I  urged  you  further ;  then  you  scratched  your  head, 
And  too  impatiently  stamped  with  your  foot : 
Yet  I  insisted,  yet  you  answered  not; 
But,  with  an  angry  wafture  of  your  hand. 
Gave  sign  for  me  to  leave  you.     So  I  did ; 
Fearing  to  strengthen  that  impatience. 
Which  seemed  too  much  enkindled ;  and,  withal. 
Hoping  it  was  but  an  effect  of  humour. 
Which  sometime  hath  his  hour  with  every  man. 
It  will  not  let  you  eat,  nor  talk,  nor  sleep ; 
And,  could  it  work  so  much  upon  your  shape. 
As  it  hath  much  prevailed  on  your  condition, 
I  should  not  know  you,  Brutus.     Dear  my  lord. 
Make  me  acquainted  with  your  cause  of  grief. 

Bru.   I  am  not  well  in  health,  and  that  is  all. 

Por.   Brutus  is  wise,  and,  were  he  not  in  health. 
He  would  embrace  the  means  to  come  by  it. 

Bru.   Why,  so  I  do. — Good  Portia,  go  to  bed. 
209.     Por.   Is  Brutus  sick  ?  and  is  it  physical 
To  walk  unbraced,  and  suck  up  the  humours 
Of  the  dank  morning?    What!  is  Brutus  sick. 
And  will  he  steal  out  of  his  wholesome  bed, 
To  dare  the  vile  contagion  of  the  night? 
And  tempt  the  rheumy  and  unpurged  air 
6 


82  Julius  C^sar.  [act  ii. 

To  add  unto  his  sickness  ?    No,  my  Brutus ; 
You  have  some  sick  offence  within  your  mind, 
Which,  by  the  right  and  virtue  of  my  place, 
I  ought  to  know  of:  and,  upon  my  knees, 
I  charm  you,  by  my  once  commended  beauty, 
By  all  your  vows  of  love,  and  that  great  vow, 
Which  did  incorporate  and  make  us  one, 
That  you  unfold  to  me,  yourself,  your  half, 
Why  you  are  heavy ;  and  what  men  to-night 
Have  had  resort  to  you  :  for  here  have  been 
Some  six  or  seven,  who  did  hide  their  faces 
Even  from  darkness. 

Bru.   Kneel  not,  gentle  Portia. 
211.    Por.  I  should  not  need,  if  you  were  gentle  Brutus. 
Within  the  bond  of  marriage,  tell  me,  Brutus, 
Is  it  excepted,  I  should  know  no  secrets 
That  appertain  to  you .?    Am  I  yourself 
But,  as  it  were,  in  sort,  or  limitation ; 
To  keep  with  you  at  meals,  comfort  your  bed, 
And  talk  to  you  sometimes  ?    Dwell  I  but  in  the  suburbs 
Of  your  good  pleasure .''    If  it  be  no  more, 
Portia  is  Brutus'  harlot,  not  his  wife. 

Bru.  You  are  my  true  and  honorable  wife ; 
As  dear  to  me  as  are  the  ruddy  drops 
That  visit  my  sad  heart. 

213.  Por,   If  this  were  true,  then  should  I  know  this  secret. 
I  grant,  I  am  a  woman  ;  but,  withal, 

A  woman  that  lord  Brutus  took  to  wife  : 

I  grant,  I  am  a  woman  ;  but,  withal, 

A  woman  well  reputed,  Cato's  daughter. 

Think  you,  I  am  no  stronger  than  my  sex. 

Being  so  fathered,  and  so  husbanded .? 

Tell  me  your  counsels,  I  will  not  disclose  *em : 

I  have  made  strong  proof  of  my  constancy, 

Giving  myself  a  voluntary  wound 

Here,  in  the  thigh  :  can  I  bear  that  with  patience, 

And  not  my  husband's  secrets? 

214.  Bru.   O  ye  gods, 

Render  me  worthy  of  this  noble  wife  I    {^Knocking  inithin. 
Hark,  harkl  one  knocks.    Portia,  go  in  awhile; 
And  by  and  by  thy  bosom  shall  partake 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  83 

The  secrets  of  my  heart. 

All  my  engagements  I  will  construe  to  thee, 

All  the  charactery  of  my  sad  brows  :  — 

Leave  me  with  haste.  \_Extt  Portia. 

Enter  Lucius  and  Ligarius. 

Lucius,  -N^^ho's  that,  knocks  ? 

Luc.   Here  is  a  sick  man  that  would  speak  with  you.. 

Bru.   Caius  Ligarius,  that  Metellus  spake  of.  — 
Boy,  stand  aside.  —  Caius  Ligarius  !  how.-* 
317.     Ltg-.   Vouchsafe  good  morrow  from  a  feeble  tongue. 
3x8.     Bru.  O,  what  a  time  have  you  chose  out,  brave  Caius, 
To  wear  a  kerchief!     Would  you  were  not  sick ! 

L,iff.   I  am  not  sick,  if  Brutus  have  in  hand 
Any  exploit  worthy  the  name  of  honor. 

Bru.   Such  an  exploit  have  I  in  hand,  Ligarius, 
Had  you  a  healthful  ear  to  hear  of  it. 
231.     Ltg:   By  all  the  gods  that  Romans  bow  before, 
I  here  discard  my  sickness.     Soul  of  Rome  I 
Brave  son,  derived  from  honorable  loins  I 
Thou,  like  an  exorcist,  hast  conjured  up 
My  mortified  spirit.     Now  bid  me  run, 
And  I  will  strive  with  things  impossible. 
Yea,  get  the  better  of  them.     What's  to  do? 

Bru.   A  piece  of  work  that  will  make  sick  men  whole. 

Ltg-.  But  are  not  some  whole  that  we  must  make  sick? 

224.  Bru.   That  must  we  also.     What  it  is,  my  Caius, 
I  shall  unfold  to  thee,  as  we  are  going 

To  whom  it  must  be  done. 

225.  Ltg.    Set  on  your  foot ; 

And,  with  a  heart  new-fired,  I  follow  you, 
To  do  I  know  not  what :  but  it  sufficeth, 
That  Brutus  leads  me  on. 

Bru.  Follow  me  then.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE    IL— The  same.    A  Room  in  CjesmCs  Palace. 

Thunder  and  lightning.     Enter  C^SAR  in  his  night-gown. 

227.     CcBs.   Nor  heaven,  nor  earth,  have  been  at  peace  to- 
night : 
Thrice  hath  Calphurnia  in  her  sleep  cried  out, 
Help^  ho  !  they  murder  Ccesar !  —  Who's  within  ? 


84  Julius  C^sar.  [act  ii. 

Enter  a  Servant. 
Serv.  Mj  lord  ? 
229.     Cces.   Go  bid  the  priests  do  present  sacrifice, 
And  bring  me  their  opinions  of  success. 

Serv.    I  will,  my  lord.  [Exit, 

Enter  Calphurnia. 

Cal.  What  mean  you,  Csesar?    Think  you  to  walk 
forth? 
You  shall  not  stir  out  of  your  house  to-day. 

Cces.   Caesar  shall  forth.    The  things  that  threatened 
me 
Ne'er  looked  but  on  my  back ;  when  they  shall  see 
The  face  of  Caesar,  they  are  vanished. 

233.  Cal.   Caesar,  I  never  stood  on  ceremonies, 
Yet  now  they  fright  me.     There  is  one  within, 
Besides  the  things  that  we  have  heard  and  seen,- 
Recounts  most  horrid  sights  seen  by  the  watch. 
A  lioness  hath  whelped  in  the  streets  ; 

And  graves  have  yawned,  and  yielded  up  their  dead  * 

Fierce  fiery  warriors  fight  upon  the  clouds, 

In  ranks  and  squadrons,  and  right  form  of  war, 

Which  drizzled  blood  upon  the  Capitol : 

The  noise  of  battle  hurtled  in  the  air, 

Horses  did  neigh,  and  dying  men  did  groan ; 

And  ghosts  did  shriek  and  squeal  about  the  streets. 

O  Caesar !  these  things  are  beyond  all  use, 

And  I  do  fear  them. 

234.  CcBS.   What  can  be  avoided. 

Whose  end  is  purposed  by  the  mighty  gods  ? 
Yet  Caesar  shall  go  forth ;  for  these  predictions 
Are  to  the  world  in  general,  as  to  Caesar. 

Cal.  When  beggars  die,  there  are  no  comets  seen ; 
The  heavens  themselves  blaze  forth  the  death  of  princes. 
236.     Cobs.  Cowards  die  many  times  before  their  deaths ; 
The  valiant  never  taste  of  death  but  once. 
Of  all  the  wonders  that  I  yet  have  heard. 
It  seems  to  me  most  strange  that  men  should  fear; 
Seeing  that  death,  a  necessary  end, 
Will  come,  when  it  will  come. 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  85 

Re-enter  a  Servant. 

What  say  the  augurers  ? 

Serv.  They  would  not  have  you  to  stir  forth  to-day. 
Plucking  the  entrails  of  an  offering  forth, 
They  could  not  find  a  heart  within  the  beast. 

238.  Cces.   The  gods  do  this  in  shame  of  cowardice : 
Caesar  should  be  a  beast  without  a  heart, 

If  he  should  stay  at  home  to-day  for  fear. 
No,  Ccesar  shall  not.     Danger  knows  full  well 
That  Csesar  is  more  dangerous  than  he. 
We  are  two  lions  littered  in  one  day, 
And  I  the  elder  and  more  terrible ; 
And  Ceesar  shall  go  forth. 

239.  Cal.   Alas,  my  lord. 

Your  wisdom  is  consumed  in  confidence. 
Do  not  go  forth  to-day.     Call  it  my  fear, 
That  keeps  you  in  the  house,  and  not  your  own. 
We'll  send  Mark  Antony  to  the  senate-house; 
And  he  shall  say,  you  are  not  well  to-day : 
Let  me,  upon  my  knee,  prevail  in  this. 

240.  Cces.   Mark  Antony  shall  say,  I  am  not  well; 
And,  for  thy  humour,  I  will  stay  at  home. 

Enter  Decius. 

Here's  Decius  Brutus,  he  shall  tell  them  so. 

241.  Dec.   Csesar,  all  hail!  Good  morrow,  worthy  Caesar: 
I  come  to  fetch  you  to  the  senate-house. 

242.  Cces.  And  you  are  come  in  very  happy  time 
To  bear  my  greeting  to  the  senators, 

And  tell  them  that  I  will  not  come  to-day. 
Cannot,  is  false ;  and  that  I  dare  not,  falser : 
I  will  not  come  to-day.    Tell  them  so,  Decius. 
Cal.   Say,  he  is  sick. 

244.  Cces.   Shall  Csesar  send  a  lie ? 

Have  I  in  conquest  stretched  mine  arm  so  far. 
To  be  afeard  to  tell  grey-beards  the  truth  ? 
Decius,  go  tell  them  Ca;sar  will  not  come. 

Dec.  Most  mighty  Csesar,  let  me  know  some  cause, 
Lest  I  be  laughed  at  when  I  tell  them  so. 

245.  Cces.  The  cause  is  in  my  will ;  I  will  not  come : 


86  '  Julius  C^sar.  [act  ii. 

That  is  enough  to  satisfy  the  senate. 
But,  for  your  private  satisfaction, 
Because  I  love  you,  I  will  let  you  know. 
Calphurnia  here,  my  wife,  stays  me  at  home : 
She  dreamt  to-night  she  saw  my  statue, 
Which,  like  a  fountain  with  an  hundred  spouts, 
Did  run  pure  blood ;  and  many  lusty  Romans 
Came  smiling,  and  did  bathe  their  hands  in  it. 
And  these  does  she  apply  for  warnings  and  portents 
Of  evils  imminent;  and  on  her  knee 
Hath  begged  that  I  will  stay  at  home  to-day. 
246.     Dec.   This  dream  is  all  amiss  interpreted  : 
It  was  a  vision  fair  and  fortunate. 
Your  statue  spouting  blood  in  many  pipes, 
In  which  so  many  smiling  Romans  bathed, 
Signifies  that  from  you  great  Rome  shall  suck 
Reviving  blood ;  and  that  great  men  shall  press 
For  tinctures,  stains,  relics,  and  cognizance. 
This  by  Calphurnia's  dream  is  signified. 

Cces.  And  this  way  have  you  well  expounded  it. 

248.  Dec.   I  have,  when  you  have  heard  what  I  can  say : 
And  know  it  now.    The  senate  have  concluded 

To  give  this  day  a  crown  to  mighty  Caesar. 
If  you  shall  send  them  word  you  will  not  come, 
Their  minds  may  change.     Besides,  it  were  a  mock 
Apt  to  be  rendered,  for  some  one  to  say, 
Break  uj>  the  senate  till  another  time., 
When  CcBsar's  ivife  shall  meet  ■with  better  dreams. 
If  Caesar  hide  himself,  shall  they  not  whisper, 
Lo^  Ccesar  is  afraid? 

Pardon  me,  Caesar ;  for  my  dear,  dear  love 
To  your  proceeding  bids  me  tell  you  this ; 
And  reason  to  my  love  is  liable. 

249.  Cces.    How  foolish  do  your  fears   seem  now,   Cal- 

phurnia! 
I  am  ashamed  I  did  yield  to  them.  — 
Give  me  my  robe,  for  I  will  go  :  — 

Enter  Publius,   Brutus,   Ligarius,  Metellus,  Casca, 
Trebonius,  and  Cinna. 
And  look  where  Publius  is  come  to  fetch  me. 
Pub.   Good  morrow,  Caesar. 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  87 

251.  CcBs.  Welcome,  Publius. — 

What,  Brutus,  are  you  stirred  so  early  too?  — 
Good  morrow,  Casca.  —  Caius  Ligarius, 
Caesar  was  ne'er  so  much  your  enemy, 
As  that  same  ague  which  hath  made  you  lean.— 
What  is't  o'clock? 

252.  Bru.   Caesar,  'tis  strucken  eight. 

253.  Cces.  I  thank  you  for  your  pains  and  courtesy. 

Enter  Antony. 
See !  Antony,  that  revels  long  o'  nights, 
Is,  notwithstanding,  up  :  — 
Good  morrow,  Antony. 
Ant.   So  to  most  noble  Caesar. 
255.     C(^s.   Bid  them  prepare  within  :  — 
I  am  to  blame  to  be  thus  waited  for.  — 
Now,  Cinna.  —  Now,  Metellus.  —  What,  Trebonias  I 
I  have  an  hour's  talk  in  store  for  you. 
Remember  that  you  call  on  me  to-day : 
Be  near  me,  that  I  may  remember  you. 

Treb.   Caesar,  I  will :  —  and  so  near  will  I  be, 
That  your  best  friends  shall  wish  I  had  been  further. 

\_Astde» 
CcBs.  Good  friends,  go  in,  and  taste  some  wine  with  me ; 
And  we,  like  friends,  will  straightway  go  together. 
258      Bru.   That  every  like  is  not  the  same,  O  Caesar, 
The  heart  of  Brutus  yearns  to  think  upon ! 

{Aside.    Exeunt, 


SCENE  III.  —  The  same.     A  Street  near  the  Capitol. 

Enter  Artemidorus,  reading  a  Paper. 

259.  Art.  Caesar,  beware  <?/" Brutus  ;  ^a/te  i^ee^^Cassius; 
come  not  near  Casca;  have  an  eye  to  Cinna;  trust  not 
Trebonius;  mark  luell  Metellus  Cimber;  Decius  Brutus 
loves  thee  not;  thou  hast  wronged  Caius  Ligarius.  There 
is  but  one  mind  iii  all  these  men,  and  it  is  bent  against 
Caesar.  If  thou  beest  not  immortal,  look  about  you:  se- 
curity gives  way  to  conspiracy.  The  mighty  gods  defend 
thee  !     Thy  lover,  Artemidorus. 


88  Julius  C^sar.  [act  ii. 

Here  will  I  stand,  till  Caesar  pass  along, 

And  as  a  suitor  will  I  give  him  this. 

My  heart  laments,  that  virtue  cannot  live 

Out  of  the  teeth  of  emulation. 

If  thou  read  this,  O  Caesar,  thou  mayest  live; 

If  not,  the  fates  with  traitors  do  contrive.  [^Exti. 


SCENE  IV.  —  The  same.   Another  part  of  the  same  Street^ 
before  the  House  of  Brutus. 

Enter  Portia  and  Lucius. 

260.    Por.  I  pr'jthee,  boj,  run  to  the  senate-house ; 

Stay  not  to  answer  me,  but  get  thee  gone. 

Why  dost  thou  stay  ? 

Luc.   To  know  my  errand,  madam. 
262.    Por.   I  would  have  had  thee  there,  and  here  again, 

Ere  I  can  tell  thee  what  thou  shouldst  do  there.  — 

0  constancy,  be  strong  upon  my  side  I 

Set  a  huge  mountain  'tween  my  heart  and  tongue  I 

1  have  a  man's  mind,  but  a  woman's  might. 
How  hard  it  is  for  women  to  keep  counsel !  — 
Art  thou  here  yet? 

Luc.   Madam,  what  should  I  do .'' 
Run  to  the  Capitol,  and  nothing  else.'* 
And  so  return  to  you,  and  nothing  else? 

Por.   Yes,  bring  me  word,  boy,  if  thy  lord  look  well, 
For  he  went  sickly  forth  :  and  take  good  note 
What  Caesar  doth,  what  suitors  press  to  him. 
Hark,  boy!  what  noise  is  that? 

Luc.   I  hear  none,  madam. 

266.  Por.   Pr'ythee,  listen  well ; 

I  heard  a  bustling  rumour,  like  a  fray, 
And  the  wind  brings  it  from  the  Capitol. 

267.  Luc.   Sooth,  madam,  I  hear  nothing. 

Enter  The  Soothsayer. 

268.  Por.   Come  hither,  fellow.  Which  way  hast  thou  been? 
Sooth.   At  mine  own  house,  good  lady. 

270.     Por.   What  is't  o'clock  ? 

Sooth.  About  the  ninth  hour,  lady. 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  89 

Por.  Is  Caesar  yet  gone  to  the  Capitol  ? 

Sooth.   Madam,  not  jet :  I  go  to  take  mj  stand, 
To  see  him  pass  on  to  the  Capitol. 

Por.   Thou  hast  some  suit  to  CiEsar,  hast  thou  not? 

Sooth.  That  I  have,  lady :  if  it  will  please  Cssar 
To  be  so  good  to  Caesar  as  to  hear  me, 
I  shall  beseech  him  to  befriend  himself. 

276.  Por.  Why,  knowest  thou  any  harm's  intended  towards 

him? 

277.  Sooth.  None  that  I  know  will  be,  much  that  I  fear  may 

chance. 
Good  morrow  to  you. 

Here  the  street  is  narrow : 
The  throng  that  follows  Caesar  at  the  heels. 
Of  senators,  of  praetors,  common  suitors, 
Will  crowd  a  feeble  man  almost  to  death : 
I'll  get  me  to  a  place  more  void,  and  there 
Speak  to  great  Caesar  as  he  comes  along. 

278.  Por.   I  must  go  in.  — Ay  me !  how  weak  a  thing 
The  heart  of  woman  is  I 

O  Brutus ! 
The  heavens  speed  thee  in  thine  enterprise  I  — 
Sure,  the  boy  heard  me  :  —  Brutus  hath  a  suit. 
That  Caesar  will  not  grant.  —  O,  I  grow  faint :  — 
Run,  Lucius,  and  commend  me  to  my  lord ; 
Say,  I  am  merry ;  come  to  me  again. 
And  bring  me  word  what  he  doth  say  to  thee.    \ExeunU 


ACT  m. 

SCENE  /.—  The  same.     The  Captol',  the  Senate  sitting. 

A  Crowd  of  People  in  the  Street  leading  to  the  Capitol; 
ainong  them  Artemidorus  and  the  Soothsayer. 
Flourish.  Enter  C^sar,  Brutus,  Cassius,  Casca, 
Decius,  Metellus,  Trebgnius,  Cinna,  Antony, 
Lepidus,  Popilius,  Publius,  and  others. 

Cces.  The  ides  of  March  are  come. 


90  Julius  C^sar.  [act  hi. 

Sooth.  Ay,  Caesar ;  but  not  gone. 
Art.   Hail,  Csesar,  read  this  schedule. 
282.     Dec.  Trebonius  doth  desire  you  to  o'er-read, 
At  jour  best  leisure,  this  his  humble  suit. 

Art.   O,  Caesar,  read  mine  first ;  for  mine's  a  suit 
That  touches  Csesar  nearer.     Read  it,  great  Caesar. 
284.     Cces.  That  touches  us  ?    Ourself  shall  be  last  served. 
Art.   Delay  not,  Csesar;  read  it  instantly. 
Cces.   What,  is  the  fellow  mad  ? 
Pub.   Sirrah,  give  place. 
288.     Cas.   What,  urge  you  your  petitions  in  the  street? 
Come  to  the  Capitol. 

C^SAR  enters  the  Capitol,  the  rest  following'. 
All  the  Senators  rise. 
Pop.   I  wish  your  enterprise  to-day  may  thrive. 
Cas.   What  enterprise,  Popilius .? 
291.    Poj>.   Fare  you  well.  \Advances  to  C^SAR. 

Bru.  What  said  Popilius  Lena.? 
Cas.  He  wished  to-day  our  enterprise  might  thrive. 
I  fear  our  purpose  is  discovered. 

294.  Bru.  Look,  how  he  makes  to  Caesar :  mark  him. 

295.  Cas.   Casca,  be  sudden^  for  we  fear  prevention.  — 
Brutus,  what  shall  be  done.?    If  this  be  known, 
Cassius  on  Caesar  never  shall  turn  back, 

For  I  will  slay  myself. 

296.  Bru.   Cassius,  be  constant : 

Popilius  Lena  speaks  not  of  our  purposes; 

For,  look,  he  smiles,  and  Caesar  doth  not  change. 

297.  Cas.  Trebonius  knows  his  time ;  for,  look  you,  Brutus, 
He  draws  Mark  Antony  out  of  the  way. 

\_Exeunt  Antony  and  Trebonius.    C^sar 
and  the  Senators  take  their  seats, 
Dec.  Where  is  Metellus  Cimber.?    Let  him  go. 
And  presently  prefer  his  suit  to  Caesar. 

299.  Bru.   He  is  addressed :  press  near  and  second  him. 

300.  Cin.   Casca,  you  are  the  first  that  rears  your  hand. 

301.  Casca.   Are  we  all  ready.? 
Cces.   What  is  now  amiss, 

That  Caesar,  and  his  senate,  must  redress? 
303.    Met.  Most  high,  most  mighty,  and  most  puissant 
Caesar, 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  91 

Metellus  Cimber  throws  before  thy  seat 

An  humble  heart :  —  {Kneeling^ 

304.  Cces.   I  must  prevent  thee,  Cimber. 
These  crouchings,  and  these  lowly  courtesies, 
Might  fire  the  blood  of  ordinary  men, 

And  turn  pre-ordinance  and  first  decree 

Into  the  law  of  children.     Be  not  fond, 

To  think  that  Caesar  bears  such  rebel  blood. 

That  will  be  thawed  from  the  true  quality 

With  that  which  melteth  fools ;  I  mean  sweet  words, 

Low-crouched  curtsies,  and  base  spaniel  fawning. 

Thy  brother  by  decree  is  banished ; 

If  thou  dost  bend,  and  pray,  and  fawn  for  him, 

I  spurn  thee  like  a  cur  out  of  my  way. 

Know,  Caesar  doth  not  wrong ;  nor  without  cause 

Will  he  be  satisfied. 

305.  Met.   Is  there  no  voice  more  worthy  than  my  own, 
To  sound  more  sweetly  in  great  Caesar's  ear 

For  the  repealing  of  my  banished  brother? 

306.  Bru.   I  kiss  thy  hand,  but  not  in  flattery,  Caesar; 
Desiring  thee  that  Publius  Cimber  may 

Have  an  immediate  freedom  of  repeal. 
Cces.   What,  Brutus ! 

308.  Cas.   Pardon,  Caesar;   Caesar,  pardon  : 
As  low  as  to  thy  foot  doth  Cassius  fall, 

To  beg  enfranchisement  for  Publius  Cimber. 

309.  Cces.   I  could  be  well  moved,  if  I  were  as  you ; 
If  I  could  pray  to  move,  prayers  would  move  me : 
But  I  am  constant  as  the  northern  star, 

!..      Of  whose  true-fixed  and  resting  quality 
There  is.no  fellow  in  the  firmament. 
The  skies  are  painted  with  unnumbered  sparks ; 
They  are  all  fire,  and  every  one  doth  shine ; 
But  there's  but  one  in  all  doth  hold  his  place : 
So,  in  the  world ;  'tis  furnished  well  with  men, 
And  men  are  flesh  and  blood,  and  apprehensive;  i 
Yet,  in  the  number,  I  do  know  but  one" 
That  unassailable  holds  on  his  rank, 
Unshaked  of  motion  :  and,  that  I  am  he. 
Let  me  a  little  show  it,  even  in  this ; 
That  I  was  constant  Cimber  should  be  banished, 
And  constant  do  remain  to  keep  him  so. 


Dies.     The  Senators  and  People  retire  in  confusion,  ^s\ 
in.   Liberty !  Freedom  !  Tyranny  is  deadT^^^^^*"^ — ***«*^ 
Run  hence,  proclaim,  cry  it  about  the  streets.  k^. 

Cas.    Some  to  the  common  pulpits,  and  cry  out,    ^^^^ 


92  Julius  C^sar.  [act  in. 

Cin.   O  Caesar, 

311.     Cces.   Hence !  wilt  thou  lift  up  Olympus  ? 
Dec.  Great  Caesar, 

313.  Cces.   Doth  not  Brutus  bootless  kneel? 

314.  Casca.    Speak,  hands,  for  me. 

[Casca  stabs  C^SAR  in  the  neck.     C-.ESAR  catches     ^ 
hold  of  his  arm.     He  is  then  stabbed  by  several 
other  Conspirators,  and  at  last  by  Marcus  Brutus,  j^ 

315.  CcBs.   Et  tu,  Brute. — Then,  fall,  Caesar.  C^ 
in  c 

Cin.   Liberty !  Freedom  !  Tyranny  is  deadT^^^^^*"^ — ***«*^ 

md  cry  c 

Liberty,  freedom,  and  enfranchisement 
318.     Bru.   People,  and  senators!  be  not  aifrighted;  XW] 
Fly  not ;  stand  still :  —  ambition's  debt  is  paid. 

Casca.   Go  to  the  pulpit,  Brutus.  'N 

Dec.   And  Cassius  too. 

Bru.   Where's  Publius? 

Cin.    Here,  quite  confounded  with  this  mutiny.  ; 

Met.   Stand  fast  together,  lest  some  friend  of  Caesar's   ^ 

Should  chance V  ^ 

324.     Bru.   Talk  not  of  standing.  —  Publius,\good  cheer  \ 
There  is  no  harm  intended  to  your  person. 
Nor  to  no  Roman  else  :  so  tell  them,  Publius.  ^  ^^" 

Cas.   And  leave  us,  Publius  ;  lest  that  the  people, 
Rushing  on  us,  should  do  your  age  some  mischief. 

326.  Bru.  Do  so ;  —  and  let  no  man  abide  this  deed, 
But  we  the  doers. 

Re-enter  Trebonius. 

327.  Cas.   Where's  Antony  ? 

328.  Tre.   Fled  to  his  house  amazed. 
Men,  wives,  and  children  stare,  cry  out,  and  run, 
As  it  were  doomsday. 

Bru.   Fates !  we  will  know  your  pleasures : 
That  we  shall  die,  we  know;  'tis  but  the  time. 
And  drawing  days  out,  that  men  stand  upon. 
330.     Casca.     Why,  he  that  cuts  off  twenty  years  of  life 
Cuts  off  so  many  years  of  fearing  death. 

Bru.   Grant  that,  and  then  is  death  a  benefit : 


^ 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  93 

So  are  we  Caesar's  friends,  that  have  abridged 
His  time  of  fearing  death.  —  Stoop,  Romans,  stoop, 
And  let  us  bathe  our  hands  in  Caesar's  blood 
Up  to  the  elbows,  and  besmear  our  swords  : 
Then  walk  we  forth,  even  to  the  market-place ; 
And,  waving  our  red  weapons  o'er  our  heads. 
Let's  all  cry,  Peace!  Freedom!  and  Liberty! 

332.  Cas.   Stoop,  then,  and  wash.  —  How  many  ages  hence. 
Shall  this  our  lofty  scene  be  acted  over 

In  states  unborn,  and  accents  yet  unknown  I 

333.  Bru.   How  many  times  shall  Csesar  bleed  in  sport, 
That  now  on  Pompey's  basis  lies  along, 

No  worthier  than  the  dust! 

334.  Cas.   So  oft  as  that  shall  be. 

So  often  shall  the  knot  of  us  be  called 
The  men  that  gave  their  country  liberty. 
Dec.   What,  shall  we  forth? 
336.     Cas.   Ay,  every  man  away : 

Brutus  shall  lead ;  and  we  will  grace  his  heels 
With  the  most  boldest  and  best  hearts  of  Rome. 

Enter  a  Servant. 

Bru.  Soft,  who  comes  here?    A  friend  of  Antonys. 

338.  Serv.   Thus,  Brutus,  did  my  master  bid  me  kneel; 
Thus  did  Mark  Antony  bid  me  fall  down : 

And,  being  prostrate,  thifs  he  bade  me  say. 
Brutus  is  noble,  wise,  valiant,  and  honest; 
Caesar  was  mighty,  bold,  royal,  and  loving : 
Say,  I  love  Brutus,  and  I  honor  him ; 
Say,  I  feared  Caesar,  honored  him,  and  loved  him. 
If  Brutus  will  vouchsafe  that  Antony 
May  safely  come  to  him,  and  be  resolved 
How  Caesar  hath  deserved  to  lie  in  death, 
Mark  Antony  shall  not  love  Caesar  dead 
So  well  as  Brutus  living ;  but  will  follow 
The  fortunes  and  affairs  of  noble  Brutus, 
Thorough  the  hazards  of  this  untrod  state. 
With  all  true  faith.     So  says  my  master  Antony. 

339.  Bru.   Thy  master  is  a  wise  and  valiant  Roman ; 
I  never  thought  him  worse. 

Tell  him,  so  please  him  come  unto  this  place, 


94  Julius  C^sar.  [act  hi. 

He  shall  be  satisfied ;  and,  by  my  honor, 
Depart  untouched. 

Serv.   I'll  fetch  him  presently.  \^Exit  Serv. 

341.  Bru.  I  know  that  we  shall  have  him  well  to  friend. 

342.  Cas.  I  wish  we  may :  but  yet  have  I  a  mind 
That  fears  him  much ;  and  my  misgiving  still 
Falls  shrewdly  to  the  purpose. 

Re-enter  Antony. 

343.  Bru.  But  here  comes  Antony.  —  Welcome,  Mark  An- 

tony. 

344.  Ant.   O  mighty  Caesar!    Dost  thou  lie  so  low? 
Are  all  thy  conquests,  glories,  triumphs,  spoils, 
Shrunk  to  this  little  measure  ?    Fare  thee  well.  — 
I  know  not,  gentlemen,  what  you  intend. 

Who  else  must  be  let  blood,  who  else  is  rank : 

If  I  myself,  there  is  no  hour  so  fit 

As  Caesar's  death's  hour;  nor  no  instrument 

Of  half  that  worth  as  those  your  swords,  made  rich 

With  the  most  noble  blood  of  all  this  world. 

I  do  beseech  ye,  if  you  bear  me  hard, 

Now,  whilst  your  purpled  hands  do  reek  and  smoke, 

Fulfil  your  pleasure.     Live  a  thousand  years, 

I  shall  not  find  myself  so  apt  to  die : 

No  place  will  please  me  so,  no  mean  of  death, 

As  here,  by  Caesar  and  by  you,  cut  off, 

The  choice  and  master  spirits  of  this  age. 

345.  Bru.   O  Antony !  beg  not  your  death  of  us. 
Though  now  we  must  appear  bloody  and  cruel. 
As,  by  our  hands,  and  this  our  present  act, 
You  see  we  do,  yet  see  you  but  our  hands, 
And  this  the  bleeding  business  they  have  done : 
Our  hearts  you  see  not,  they  are  pitiful ; 

And  pity  to  the  general  wrong  of  Rome 

(As  fire  drives  out  fire,  so  pity,  pity). 

Hath  done  this  deed  on  Caesar.     For  your  part, 

To  you  our  swords  have  leaden  points,  Mark  Antony : 

Our  arms,  in  strength  of  welcome,  and  our  hearts, 

Of  brothers'  temper,  do  receive  you  in. 

With  all  kind  love,  good  thoughts,  and  reverence. 

Cas.  Your  voice  shall  be  as  strong  as  any  man's, 
In  the  disposing  of  new  dignities. 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  95 

347.  Bru.   Only  be  patient,  till  we  have  appeased 
The  multitude,  beside  themselves  with  fear, 
And  then  we  will  deliver  yon  the  cause 

Why  I,  that  did  love  Caesar  when  I  struck  him, 
Have  thus  proceeded. 

348.  Ant.   I  doubt  not  of  your  wisdom. 

Let  each  man  render  me  his  bloody  hand  : 

First,  Marcus  Brutus,  will  I  shake  with  you;  — 

Next,  Caius  Cassius,  do  I  take  your  hand ;  — 

Now,  Decius  Brutus,  yours  ;  —  now  yours,  Metellus ;  — 

Yours,  Cinna; — and,  my  valiant  Casca,  yours;  — 

Though  last,  not  least  in  love,  yours,  good  Trebonius. 

Gentlemen  all,  —  alas  !  what  shall  I  say? 

My  credit  now  stands  on  such  slippery  ground. 

That  one  of  two  bad  ways  you  must  conceit  me, 

Either  a  coward  or  a  flatterer.  — 

That  I  did  love  thee,  Caesar,  O,  'tis  true : 

If  then  thy  spirit  look  upon  us  now, 

Shall  it  not  grieve  thee,  dearer  than  thy  death, 

To  see  thy  Antony  making  his  peace, 

Shaking  the  bloody  fingers  of  thy  foes. 

Most  noble  !  in  the  presence  of  thy  corse  ? 

Had  I  as  many  eyes  as  thou  hast  wounds, 

Weeping  as  fast  as  they  stream  forth  thy  blood. 

It  would  become  me  better,  than  to  close 

In  terms  of  friendship  with  thine  enemies. 

Pardon  me,  Julius !  —  Here  wast  thou  bayed,  brave  hart; 

Here  didst  thou  fall ;  and  here  thy  hunters  stand,  * 

Signed  in  thy  spoil,  and  crimsoned  in  thy  daalh.  xU>CIJao 

O  world  !  thou  wast  the  forest  to  this  hart;  ^^ 

And  this,  indeed,  O  world,  the  heart  of  thee.  — 

How  like  a  deer,  strucken  by  many  princes, 

Dost  thou  here  lie ! 

Cas.   Mark  Antony, 

350.  Ant.   Pardon  me,  Caius  Cassius  : 
The  enemies  of  Caesar  shall  say  this ; 
Then,  in  a  friend,  it  is  cold  modesty. 

351.  Cas.   I  blame  you  not  for  praising  Caesar  so; 
But  what  compact  mean  you  to  have  with  us? 
Will  you  be  pricked  in  number  of  our  friends; 
Or  shall  we  on,  and  not  depend  on  you? 


96  Julius  C^sar.  [act  hi. 

352.  Ant.   Therefore  I  took  your  hands;  but  was,  indeed, 
Swayed  from  the  point,  by  looking  down  on  Caesar. 
Friends  am  I  with  you  all,  and  love  you  all ; 

Upon  this  hope,  that  you  shall  give  me  reasons 
Why,  and  wherein,  Caesar  was  dangerous. 

353.  Bru.   Or  else  were  this  a  savage  spectacle. 
Our  reasons  are  so  full  of  good  regard, 
That,  were  you,  Antony,  the  son  of  Caesar, 
You  should  be  satisfied. 

354.  Ant.   That's  all  I  seek  : 

And  am  moreover  suitor  that  I  may 
Produce  his  body  to  the  market-place ; 
And  in  the  pulpit,  as  becomes  a  friend, 
Speak  in  the  order  of  his  funeral. 
Bru.   You  shall,  Mark  Antony. 

356.  Cas.   Brutus,  a  word  with  you.  — 

You  know  not  what  you  do.    Do  not  consent 

That  Antony  speak  in  his  funeral. 

Know  you  how  much  the  people  may  be  moved 

By  that  which  he  will  utter?  [Aside, 

357.  Bru.   By  your  pardon  ;  — 

I  will  myself  into  the  pulpit  first. 
And  show  the  reason  of  our  Caesar's  death: 
What  Antony  shall  speak,  I  will  protest 
He  speaks  by  leave  and  by  permission ; 
And  that  we  are  contented  Caesar  shall 
Have  all  true  rites  and  lawful  ceremonies. 
It  shall  advantage  more  than  do  us  wrong. 

358.  Cas.   I  know  not  what  may  fall ;  I  like  it  not. 

359.  Bru.   Mark  Antony,  here,  take  you  Caesar's  body. 
You  shall  not  in  your  funeral  speech  blame  us. 
But  speak  all  good  you  can  devise  of  Caesar; 

And  say,  you  do't  by  our  permission ; 
Else  shall  you  not  have  any  hand  at  all 
About  his  funeral.     And  you  shall  speak 
In  the  same  pulpit  whereto  I  am  going. 
After  my  speech  is  ended. 

Ant.   Be  it  so ; 
I  do  desire  no  more. 
361.    Bru.   Prepare  the  body,  then,  and  follow  us. 

lExeunt  all  but  Antony. 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  97 

362.    Ant.   O,  pardon  me,  thou  bleeding  piece  of  earth, 
That  I  am  meek  and  gentle  with  these  butchers ! 
Thou  art  the  ruins  of  the  noblest  man 
That  ever  lived  in  the  tide  of  times. 
Woe  to  the  hand  that  shed  this  costly  blood  I 
Over  thy  wounds  now  do  I  prophesy,  — 
Which,  like  dumb  mouths,  do  ope  their  ruby  lips 
To  beg  the  voice  and  utterance  of  my  tongue  :  — 
A  curse  shall  light  upon  the  loins  of  men; 
Domestic  fury,  and  fierce  civil  strife, 
Shall  cumber  all  the  parts  of  Italy : 
Blood  and  destruction  shall  be  so  in  use, 
And  dreadful  objects  so  familiar,  , 

That  mothers  shall  but  smile  when  they  behold 
Their  infants  quartered  with  the  hands  of  war, 
All  pity  choked  with  custom  of  fell  deeds ; 
And  Caesar's  spirit  ranging  for  revenge. 
With  Ate  by  his  side,  come  hot  from  hell, 
Shall  in  these  confines,  with  a  monarch's  voice, 
Cry  Havoc  I  and  let  slip  the  dogs  of  war; 
That  this  foul  deed  shall  smell  above  the  earth 
With  carrion  men,  groaning  for  burial. 

Enter  a  Servant. 

You  serve  Octavius  Caesar,  do  you  not? 
Serv.   I  do,  Mark  Antony. 
Ant.   Caesar  did  write  for  him  to  come  to  Rome. 

365.  Serv.    He  did  receive  his  letters,  and  is  coming : 
And  bid  me  say  to  you  by  word  of  mouth,  — 

O  Caesar ! \_Seeing  the  Body. 

366.  Ant.   Thy  heart  is  big ;  get  thee  apart  and  weep. 
Passion,  I  see,  is  catching;  for  mine  eyes. 
Seeing  those  beads  of  sorrow  stand  in  thine, 
Began  to  water.     Is  tliy  master  coming.? 

Serv.   He  lies  to-night  within  seven  leagues  of  Rome. 
368.     Ant.   Post  back  with  speed,  and  tell  him  what  hath 
chanced. 
Here  is  a  mourning  Rome,  a  dangerous  Rome, 
No  Rome  of  safety  for  Octavius  yet ; 
Hie  hence,  and  tell  him  so.     Yet,  stay  a  while ; 
Thou  shalt  not  back,  till  I  have  borne  this  corse 

7 


98  Julius  Cjesar,  [act  m. 

Into  the  market-place  :  there  shall  I  try, 

In  my  oration,  how  the  people  take 

The  cruel  issue  of  these  bloodj  men ; 

According  to  the  which  thou  shalt  discourse 

To  young  Octavius  of  the  state  of  things. 

Lend  me  your  hand.  [_Exeunt  with  C-<ESAR*S  Body. 


SCENE  II.—  The  same.     The  Fortim. 
Enter  Brutus  and  Cassius,  and  a  throng  ^Citizens. 

369.  Cit.  We  will  be  satisfied ;  let  us  be  satisfied. 

370.  Bru.  Then  follow  me,  and  give  me  audience,  friends. — 
Cassius,  go  you  into  the  other  street, 

And  part  the  numbers.  — 

Those  that  will  hear  me  speak,  let  'em  stay  here ; 

Those  that  will  follow  Cassius,  go  with  him ; 

And  public  reasons  shall  be  rendered 

Of  Csesar's  death. 

I  Cit.  I  will  hear  Brutus  speak. 

372.  2  Cit.   I  will  hear  Cassius ;  and  compare  their  reasons, 
When  severally  we  hear  them  rendered. 

{Exit  Cassius,  with  some  of  the  Citizens. 
Brutus  goes  into  the  Rostrum. 

373.  3  Cit.  The  noble  Brutus  is  ascended.     Silence ! 

374.  Bru.  Be  patient  till  the  last. 

Romans,  countrymen,  and  lovers  1  hear  me  for  my  cause ; 
and  be  silent,  that  you  may  hear :  believe  me  for  mine 
honor;  and  have  respect  to  mine  honor,  that  you  may 
believe :  censure  me  in  your  wisdom ;  and  awake  your 
senses,  that  you  may  the  better  judge.  If  there  be 
any  in  this  assembly,  any  dear  friend  of  Csesar's,  to 
him  I  say,  that  Brutus'  love  to  Caesar  was  no  less 
than  his.  If,  then,  that  friend  demand,  why  Brutus 
rose  against  Caesar,  this  is  my  answer; — Not  that  I 
loved  Caesar  less,  but  that  I  loved  Rome  more.  "Had  you 
rather  Caesar  were  living,  and  die  all  slaves,  than  that 
Caesar  were  dead,  to  live  all  freemen  ?  As  Caesar  loved 
me,  I  weep  for  him ;  as  he  was  fortunate,  I  rejoice  at  it; 
as  he  was  valiant,  I  honor  him :  but,  as  he  was  ambi- 
tious, I  slew  him.     There  is  tears  for  his  love;  joy  for 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  99 

his  fortune;  honor  for  his  valour;  and  death  for  his 
ambition.  Who  is  here  so  base,  that  would  be  a  bond- 
man ?  If  any,  speak ;  for  him  have  I  offended.  Who 
is  here  so  rude,  that  would  not  be  a  Roman.?  If 
any,  speak;  for  him  have  I  offended.  Who  is  here  so 
vile,  that  will  not  love  his  country.''  If  any,  speak;  for 
him  have  I  offended.     I  pause  for  a  reply. 

375.  Cit.   None,  Brutus,  none.    \_Several  speaking  at  once. 

376.  Bru.  Then  none  have  I  offended.  I  have  done  no 
more  to  Csesar  than  you  shall  do  to  Brutus.  The  ques- 
tion of  his  death  is  enrolled  in  the  Capitol :  his  glory 
not  exter^uated.  wherein  he  was  worthy ;  nor  his  offences 
enforced,  for  which  he  suffered  death. 

Enter  ANTONY  and  others,  luith  C^fiSAR's  Body, 

Here  comes  his  body,  mourned  by  Mark  Antony :  who, 
though  he  had  no  hand  in  his  death,  shall  receive  the 
benefit  of  his  dying,  a  place  in  the  commonwealth ;  as 
which  of  you  shall  not.'*  With  this  I  depart;  that,  as  I 
slew  my  best  lover  for  the  good  of  Rome,  I  have  the 
same  dagger  for  myself,  when  it  shall  please  my  country 
to  need  my  death. 

Cit.   Live,  Brutus,  live  I  live  I 

1  Cit.  Bring  him  with  triumph  home  unto  his  house. 

2  Cit,   Give  him  a  statue  with  his  ancestors. 

3  Cit.   Let  him  be  Caesar. 
381.     4  Cit.   Caesar's  better  parts 

Shall  now  be  crowned  in  Brutus. 

1  Cit.   We'll  bring  him  to  his  house  with  shouts  and 

clamours. 
Bru.   My  countrymen, 

2  Cit.   Peace ;  silence !     Brutus  speaks. 
I  Cit.   Peace,  ho ! 

386.    Bru.   Good  countrymen,  let  me  depart  alone, 
And,  for  my  sake,  stay  here  with  Antony : 
Do  grace  to  Caesar's  corpse,  and  grace  his  speech 
Tending  to  Caesar's  glories ;  which  Mark  Antony, 
By  our  permission,  is  allowed  to  make. 
I  do  entreat  you,  not  a  man  depart, 
Save  I  alone,  till  Antony  have  spoke.  \Exit. 

I  Cit.   Stay,  ho !  and  let  us  hear  Mark  Antony. 


loo  Julius  C^sar.  [act  hi. 

3  Ctt.  Let  him  go  up  into  the  public  chair; 
We'll  hear  him.  — Noble  Antony,  go  up. 

389.    Ajit.   For  Brutus'  sake,  I  am  beholden  to  you. 

4  Ctt,   What  does  he  say  of  Brutus  ? 

3  Cit.   He  says,  for  Brutus'  sake, 
He  finds  himself  beholden  to  us  all. 

4  Ctt.   'Twere  best  he  speak  no  harm  of  Brutus  here. 

1  Cit.  This  Csesar  was  a  tyrant. 
394.     3  Cit.   Nay,  that's  certain  : 

We  are  blest  that  Rome  is  rid  of  him. 

2  Cit.   Peace,  let  us  hear  what  Antony  can  say. 
Ant.  You  gentle  Romans, 

Cit.   Peace,  ho !  let  us  hear  him. 
398.    Ant.  Friends,  Romans,  countrjrmen,   lend  me  your 
ears ; 
I  come  to  bury  Csesar,  not  to  praise  him. 
The  evil  that  men  do  Hves  after  them ; 
The  good  is  oft  interred  with  their  bones  : 
So  let  it  be  with  Caesar.    The  noble  Brutus 
Hath  told  you,  Csesar  was  ambitious  : 
If  it  were  so,  it  was  a  grievous  fault ; 
And  grievously  hath  Caesar  answered  it. 
Here,  under  leave  of  Brutus,  and  the  rest 
(For  Brutus  is  an  honorable  man ; 
So  are  they  all,  all  honorable  men), 
Come  I  to  speak  in  Caesar's  funeral. 
He  was  my  friend,  faithful  and  just  to  me : 
But  Brutus  says,  he  was  ambitious ; 
And  Brutus  is  an  honorable  man. 
He  hath  brought  many  captives  home  to  Rome, 
Whose  ransoms  did  the  general  coffers  fill : 
Did  this  in  Caesar  seem  ambitious.^ 
When  that  the  poor  have  cried,  Caesar  hath  wept : 
Ambition  should  be  made  of  sterner  stuflf. 
Yet  Brutus  says,  he  was  ambitious ; 
And  Brutus  is  an  honorable  man. 
You  all  did  see,  that  on  the  Lupercal 
I  thrice  presented  him  a  kingly  crown, 
Which  he  did  thrice  refuse.     Was  this  ambition? 
Yet  Brutus  says,  he  was  ambitious ; 
And,  sure,  he  is  an  honorable  man. 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  ioj 

I  speak  not  to  disprove  what  Brutus  spoke, 

But  here  I  am  to  speak  what  I  do  know. 

You  all  did  love  him  once,  not  without  cause ; 

What  cause  withholds  jou,  then,  to  mourn  for  him? 

0  judgment,  thou  art  fled  to  brutish  beasts, 

And  men  have  lost  their  reason  !  —  Bear  with  me; 
My  heart  is  in  the  coffin  there  with  Caesar, 
And  I  must  pause  till  it  come  back  to  me. 

1  C//.   Methinks,  there  is  much  reason  in  his  sayings 

2  Ci'f.   If  thou  consider  rightly  of  the  matter, 
Caesar  has  had  great  wrong. 

3  CzV.   Has  he  not,  masters.? 

1  fear,  there  will  a  worse  come  in  his  place. 

402.  4  Czf.   Marked  ye  his  words  ?    He  would  not  take  the 

crown ; 
Therefore,  'tis  certain  he  was  not  ambitious. 

403.  I  Ci'i.   If  it  be  found  so,  some  will  dear  abide  it. 

2  C/V.   Poor  soul !  his  eyes  are  red  as  fire  with  weeping. 

3  C//.  There's  not  a  nobler  man  in  Rome  than  Antony. 

4  Cil.   Now  mark  him,  he  begins  again  to  speak. 
407.    Ant.   But  yesterday  the  word  of  Caesar  might 

Have  stood  against  the  world  :  now  lies  he  there. 
And  none  so  poor  to  do  him  reverence. 

0  masters  !  if  I  were  disposed  to  stir 
Your  hearts  and  minds  to  mutiny  and  rage, 

1  should  do  Brutus  wrong,  and  Cassius  wrong, 
Who,  you  all  know,  are  honorable  men  : 

I  will  not  do  them  wrong ;  I  rather  choose 
To  wrong  the  dead,  to  wrong  myself,  and  you, 
Than  I  will  wrong  such  honorable  men. 
But  here's  a  parchment,  with  the  seal  of  Caesar; 
I  found  it  in  his  closet;  'tis  his  will : 
Let  but  the  commons  hear  this  testament 
(Which,  pardon  me,  I  do  not  mean  to  read), 
And  they  would  go  and  kiss  dead  Caesar's  wounds, 
And  dip  their  napkins  in  his  sacred  blood ; 
Yea,  beg  a  hair  of  him  for  memory, 
And,  dying,  mention  it  within  their  wills, 
Bequeathing  it,  as  a  rich  legacy, 
Unto  their  issue. 
4  C//.  We'll  hear  the  will.    Read  it,  Mark  Antony. 


I02  Julius  C^sar.  [act  hi. 

CH.  The  will,  the  will !  we  will  hear  Caesar's  will. 

Ant.  Have  patience,  gentle  friends ;  I  must  not  read  it ; 
It  is  not  meet  jou  know  how  Caesar  loved  you. 
You  are  not  wood,  jou  are  not  stones,  but  men ; 
And,  being  men,  hearing  the  will  of  Caesar, 
It  will  inflame  you,  it  will  make  you  mad. 
'Tis  good  you  know  not  that  you  are  his  heirs ; 
For  if  you  should,  O,  what  would  come  of  it! 

411.  4  Cit.   Read  the  will;   we  will  hear  it,  Antony;   you 
shall  read  us  the  will ;  Caesar's  will ! 

412.  Ant.   Will  you  be  patient.?    Will  you  stay  a  while ? 
I  have  o'ershot  myself,  to  tell  you  of  it. 

I  fear  I  wrong  the  Ijonorable  men. 

Whose  daggers  have  stabbed  Caesar :  I  do  fear  it. 

4  Cit.   They  were  traitors  !    Honorable  men  ! 

Cit.   The  will !  the  testament ! 

2  Cit.    They  were  villains,,  murderers !     The  will  I 
Read  the  will  I 

Ant.   You  will  compel  me,  then,  to  read  the  will  ? 
Then  make  a  ring  about  the  corpse  of  Caesar, 
And  let  me  show  you  him  that  made  the  will. 
Shall  I  descend.?    And  will  you  give  me  leave? 
Cit.   Come  down. 
418.     2  Cit.   Descend.  \He  comes  down  from  the  jl>ulptt. 

3  Cit.  You  shall  have  leave. 

4  Cit.   A  ring :  stand  round. 

421.     I  Cit.    Stand  from  the  hearse,  stand  from  the  body. 
2  Cit.   Room  for  Antony !  —  most  noble  Antony ! 
Ant.   Nay,  press  not  so  upon  me ;  stand  far  off. 
Cit.   Stand  back!  room!  bear  back'!  j 

425.    Ant.   If  you  have  tears,  prepare  to  shed  them  now.     » 
You  all  do  know  this  mantle  :  I  remember  /  ' 

The  first  time  ever  Caesar  put  it  on ;  ^ 

'Twas  on  a  summer's  evening,  in  his  tent. 
That  day  he  overcame  the  Nervii. 
Look !  in  this  place,  ran  Cassius'  dagger  through : 
See  what  a  rent  the  envious  Casca  made  : 
Through  this  the  well-beloved  Brutus  stabbed ; 
And,  as  he  plucked  his  cursed  steel  away, 
Mark  how  the  blood  of  Caesar  followed  it; 
As  rushing  out  of  doors,  to  be  resolved 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  103 

If  Brutus  so  unkindly  knocked,  or  no ; 

For  Brutus,  as  you  know,  was  Caesar's  angel : 

Judge,  O  you  gods,  how  dearly  Caesar  loved  him  I 

This  was  the  most  unkindest  cut  of  all : 

For,  when  the  noble  Caesar  saw  him  stab, 

Ingratitude,  more  strong  than  traitors'  arms, 

Quite  vanquished  him  :  then  burst  his  mighty  heart; 

And,  in  his  mantle  muffling  up  his  face, 

Even  at  the  base  of  Pompey's  statue. 

Which  all  the  while  ran  blood,  great  Caesar  fell. 

O,  what  a  fall  was  there,  my  countrymen ! 

Then  I,  and  you,  and  all  of  us  fell  down, 

Whilst  bloody  treason  flourished  over  us. 

O,  now  you  weep ;  and,  I  perceive,  you  feel 

The  dint  of  pity :  these  are  gracious  drops. 

Kind  souls,  what !  weep  you,  when  you  but  behold 

Our  Caesar's  vesture  wounded  ?    Look  you  here, 

Here  is  himself,  marred,  as  you  see,  with  traitors. 

1  Cit.   O  piteous  spectacle  I 

2  Cit.   O  noble  Caesar  1 

3  Cit.   O  woeful  day ! 

4  Cit.    O  traitors,  villains ! 

1  Cit.   O  most  bloody  sight ! 

2  Cit.  We  will  be  revenged ;  revenge!  about, — seek, — 
burn,  —  fire,  —  kill,  —  slay  I  —  let  not  a  traitor  live. 

432.     Ant.    Stay,  countrymen. 

1  Cit.   Peace  there !  —  hear  the  noble  Antony. 

2  Cit.   We'll  hear  him,  we'll  follow  him,  we'll  die  with 
him. 

435.     Ant.  Good  friends,  sweet  friends,  let  me  not  stir  you  up 
To  such  a  sudden  flood  of  mutiny. 
They  that  have  done  this  deed  are  honorable : 
What  private  griefs  they  have,  alas !  I  know  not. 
That  made  them  do  it;  they  are  wise  and  honorable, 
And  will,  no  doubt,  with  reasons  answer  you. 
I  come  not,  friends,  to  steal  away  your  hearts  : 
I  am  no  orator,  as  Brutus  is ; 
But,  as  you  know  me  all,  a  plain  blunt  man, 
That  love  my  friend ;  and  that  they  know  full  well 
That  gave  me  public  leave  to  speak  of  him. 
For  I  have  neither  wit,  nor  words,  nor  worth, 


I04  Julius  C^sar.  [act  hi. 

Action,  nor  utterance,  nor  the  power  of  speech, 

To  stir  men's  blood  :  I  only  speak  right  on ; 

I  tell  you  that  which  you  yourselves  do  know ; 

Show  you   sweet  Caesar's  wounds,   poor,   poor  dumb 

mouths, 
And  bid  them  speak  for  me :  but,  were  I  Brutus, 
And  Brutus  Antony,  there  were  an  Antony 
Would  ruffle  up  your  spirits,  and  put  a  tongue 
In  every  wound  of  Csesar,  that  should  move 
The  stones  of  Rome  to  rise  and  mutiny. 
Cit.   We'll  mutiny. 

1  Cit.   We'll  burn  the  house  of  Brutus. 

3  Cit.   Away,  then !  come,  seek  the  conspirators. 

Ant.  Yet  hear  me,  countrymen ;  yet  hear  me  speak. 

Cit.   Peace,  ho !     Hear  Antony,  most  noble  Antony. 

Ant.   Why,  friends,  you  go  to  do  you  know  not  what. 
Wherein  hath  Csesar  thus  deserved  your  loves  "i 
Alas,  you  know  not :  —  I  must  tell  you,  then.  — 
You  have  forgot  the  will  I  told  you  of. 

Cit.  Most  true ;  —  the  will ;  —  let's  stay,  and  hear  the 
will. 
443.    Ant.   Here  is  the  will,  and  under  Caesar's  seal. 
To  every  Roman  citizen  he  gives, 
To  every  several  man,  seventy-five  drachmas. 

2  Cit.   Most  noble  Caesar  I  —  we'll  revenge  his  death. 

3  Cit.  O  royal  Caesar  1 

Ant.   Hear  me  with  patience. 
Cit.   Peace,  ho ! 

448.  Ant.  Moreover,  he  hath  left  you  all  his  walks, 
His  private  arbours,  and  new-planted  orchards, 
On  this  side  Tiber ;  he  hath  left  them  you, 
And  to  your  heirs  forever ;  common  pleasures, 
To  walk  abroad,  and  recreate  yourselves. 

Here  was  a  Csesar:  when  comes  such  another? 

449.  I  Cit.   Never,  never !  —  Come,  away,  away  I 
We'll  burn  his  body  in  the  holy  place, 

And  with  the  brands  fire  the  traitors'  houses. 
Take  up  the  body. 

2  Cit.   Go,  fetch  fire. 

3  Cit.   Pluck  down  benches. 

4  Cit.  Pluck  down  forms,  windows,  anything. 

\Exeunt  Citizens,  vjith  the  body. 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  105 

453.     Auf.   Now  let  it  work.     Mischief,  thou  art  afoot, 
Take  thou  what  course  thou  wilt !  —  How  now,  fellow? 

Enter  a  Servant. 

Serv.   Sir,  Octavius  is  already  come  to  Rome. 

Ant.   Where  is  he? 

Serv.   He  and  Lepidus  are  at  Caesar's  house. 

457.  Ant.   And  thither  will  I  straight  to  visit  him. 
He  comes  upon  a  wish.     Fortune  is  merry, 
And  in  this  mood  will  give  us  anything. 

458.  Serv.   I  heard  them  say,  Brutus  and  Cassius 
Are  rid  like  madmen  through  the  gates  of  Rome. 

459.  Ant.   Belike  they  had  some  notice  of  the  people, 
How  I  had  moved  them.    Bring  me  to  Octavius.  {Exeunt. 


SCENE   III.  —  The  same.    A  Street. 

Enter  Cinna  the  Poet. 

460.     Cin.   I  dreamt  to-night,  that  I  did  feast  with  Caesar, 
And  things  unlikely  charge  my  fantasy. 
I  have  no  will  to  wander  forth  of  cfeors, 
Yet  something  leads  me  forth. 

Enter  Citizens. 

1  Ctt.  What  is  your  name.? 

2  Cit.  Whither  are  you  going? 

3  Cit.  Where  do  you  dwell  ? 

4  Cit.  Are  you  a  married  man,  or  a  bachelor? 
2  Cit.  Answer  every  man  directly. 

I  Cit.  Ay,  and  briefly. 
4  Cit.   Ay,  and  wisely. 

468.  3  Cit.   Ay,  and  truly,  you  were  best. 

469.  Cin.  What  is  my  name?  Whither  am  I  going? 
Where  do  I  dwell  ?  Am  I  a  married  man,  or  a  bachelor? 
Then  to  answer  every  man  directly  and  briefly,  wisely 
and  truly.     Wisely,  I  say,  I  am  a  bachelor. 

470.  Cit.  That's  as  much  as  to  say,  they  are  fools  that 
marry:  —  you'll  bear  me  a  bang  for  that,  I  fear.  Pro- 
ceed ;  directly. 

Cin.  Directly,  I  am  going  to  Caesar's  funeral. 


/ 

'io6  Julius  C^sar.  [act  rv. 

1  Ctt.  As  a  friend,  or  an  enemy  ? 
Cin.   As  a  friend. 

2  Ctt.  That  matter  is  answered  directly. 
4  OV.   For  your  dwelling,  —  briefly. 
Cin.   Briefly,  I  dwell  by  the  Capitol. 

3  Ctt.   Your  name,  Sir,  truly, 
Cin.   Truly,  my  name  is  Cinna. 

I  Cit.   Tear  him  to  pieces,  he's  a  conspirator. 
Cin.   I  am  Cinna  the  poet,  I  am  Cinna  the  poet. 

4  Cit.  Tear  him  for  his  bad  verses,  tear  him  for  his 
bad  ve^'Ses. 

482.  Cin.   I  am  not  Cinna  the  conspirator. 

483.  2  Cit.   It  is  no  matter,  his  name's  Cinna ;   pluck  but 
his  name  out  of  his  heart,  and  turn  him  going. 

3  Cit.  Tear  him,  tear  him !  Come,  brands,  ho  I  fire- 
brands! To  Brutus',  to  Cassius';  burn  all.  Some  to 
Decius'  house,  and  some  to  Casca's  :  some  to  Ligarius' : 
awayl  gol  [^Exeunt. 


ACT   IV. 

SCENE  I.  —  The  same.    A  Room  in  Antony's  House. 

Antony,  Octavius,  and  Lepidus,  seated  at  a  Table. 

485.  Ant.  These  many,  then,  shall  die;  their  names  are 
pricked. 

Oct.  Your  brother  too  must  die.  Consent  you,  Lep- 
idus ? 

Lep.   I  do  consent. 

Oct.   Prick  him  down,  Antony. 

489.  Lep    Upon  condition  Publius  shall  not  live, 
Who  is  your  sister's  son,  Mark  Antony. 

490.  Ant.   He  shall  not  live ;  look,  with  a  spot  I  damn  him. 
But,  Lepidus,  go  you  to  Caesar's  house ; 

Fetch  the  will  hither,  and  we  shall  determine 
How  to  cut  off  some  charge  in  legacies. 
Lep.   What,  shall  I  find  you  here  ? 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  107 

Oct.  Or  here,  or  at  the  Capitol.  \Extt  Lepidus. 

493.    Ant.   This  is  a  slight  unmeritable  man, 
Meet  to  be  sent  on  errands  :  is  it  fit, 
The  three-fold  world  divided,  he  should  stand 
One  of  the  three  to  share  it? 
Oct.    So  jou  thought  him ; 
And  took  his  voice  who  should  be  pricked  to  die 
In  our  black  sentence  and  proscription. 

495.    Ant.   Octavius,  I  have  seen  more  days  than  you; 
And  though  we  lay  these  honors  on  this  man, 
To  ease  ourselves  of  divers  slanderous  loads. 
He  shall  but  bear  them  as  the  ass  bears  gold, 
To  groan  and  sweat  under  the  business, 
Either  led  or  driven,  as  we  point  the  way; 
And,  having  brought  our  treasure  where  we  will, 
Then  take  we  down  his  load,  and  turn  him  oflf, 
Like  to  the  empty  ass,  to  shake  his  ears, 
And  graze  on  commons. 

Oct.   You  may  do  your  will ; 
But  he's  a  tried  and  valiant  soldier. 

497.  Ant.   So  is  my  horse,  Octavius ;  and,  for  that, 
I  do  appoint  him  store  of  provender. 

It  is  a  creature  that  I  teach  to  fight. 

To  wind,  to  stop,  to  run  directly  on ; 

His  corporal  motion  governed  by  my  spirit. 

And,  in  some  taste,  is  Lepidus  but  so; 

He  must  be  taught,  and  trained,  and  bid  go  forth : 

A  barren-spirited  fellow ;  one  that  feeds 

On  objects,  arts,  and  imitations. 

Which,  out  of  use,  and  staled  by  other  men, 

Begin  his  fashion.     Do  not  talk  of  him, 

But  as  a  property. 

And  now,  Octavius, 
Listen  great  things.  —  Brutus  and  Cassius 
Are  levying  powers ;  we  must  straight  make  head : 
Therefore  let  our  alliance  be  combined. 
Our  best  friends  made,  and  our  best  means  stretched  out; 
And  let  us  presently  go  sit  in  counsel, 
How  covert  matters  may  be  best  disclosed, 
And  open  perils  surest  answered. 

498.  Oct.   Let  us  do  so  :  for  we  are  at  the  stake. 


io8  Julius  C^sar.  [act  iv. 

And  bayed  about  with  many  enemies ; 

And  some  that  smile  have  in  their  hearts,  I  fear, 

Millions  of  mischiefs.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  II.  —  Before  Brutus's  Tent,  in  the  Camp  near 
Sardis. 

Drum.  — Enter  Brutus,  Lucilius,  Titinius,  and  Soldiers  : 
PiNDARUS  meeting  them  :  Lucius  at  a  distance. 

Bru.   Stand,  ho ! 

Lucil.   Give  the  word,  ho !  and  stand. 
501.'    Bru.   What  now,  Lucilius.?  is  Cassius  near? 
503.     Lucil.    He  is  at  hand ;  and  Pindarus  is  come 
To  do  you  salutation  from  his  mastfer. 

[Pindarus  gives  a  Letter  to  Brutus. 
503.     Bru.   He  greets  me  well.  —  Your  master,  Pindarus, 
In  his  own  change,  or  by  ill  officers. 
Hath  given  me  some  worthy  cause  to  wish 
Things  done  undone :  but,  if  he  be  at  hand, 
I  shall  be  satisfied. 

Pin.   I  do  not  doubt 
But  that  my  noble  master  will  appear 
Such  as  he  is,  full  of  regard  and  honor. 

505.  Bru.   He  is  not  doubted.  —  A  word,  Lucilius : 
How  he  received  you,  let  me  be  resolved. 

506.  Lucil.    With  courtesy,  and  with  respect  enough ; 
But  not  with  such  familiar  instances, 

Nor  with  such  free  and  friendly  conference, 
As  he  hath  used  of  old. 

507.  Bru.   Thou  hast  described 

A  hot  friend  cooling.     Ever  note,  Lucilius, 

When  love  begins  to  sicken  and  decay, 

It  useth  an  enforced  ceremony. 

There  are  no  tricks  in  plain  and  simple  faith : 

But  hollow  men,  like  horses  hot  at  hand. 

Make  gallant  show  and  promise  of  their  mettle ; 

But,  when  they  should  endure  the  bloody  spur, 

They  fall  their  crests,  and,  like  deceitful  jades, 

Sink  in  the  trial.     Comes  his  army  on  ? 

508.  Lucil.  They  mean  this  night  in  Sardis  to  be  quartered ; 


I 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  109 

The  greater  part,  the  horse  in  general, 
Are  come  with  Cassius.  [MarcXt  within. 

509.     Bru.    Hark,  he  is  arrived  :  — 
March  gently  on  to  meet  him. 

Enter  Cassius  and  Soldiers. 

Cas.    Stand,  ho ! 

Bru.   Stand,  ho  !     Speak  the  word  along. 

512.  Within.    Stand. 

513.  Within.    Stand. 

514.  Within.    Stand. 

Cas.   Most  noble  brother,  you  have  done  me  wrong. 

Bru.  Judge  me,  jou  gods  !     Wrong  I  mine  enemies  ? 
And,  if  not  so,  how  should  I  wrong  a  brother? 

Cas.   Brutus,  this  sober  form  of  yours  hides  wrongs; 

And  when  you  do  them 

518.     Bru.    Cassius,  be  content : 

Speak  your  griefs  softly ;  —  I  do  know  you  well.  — 
Before  the  eyes  of  both  our  armies  here, 
Which  should  perceive  nothing  but  love  from  us, 
Let  us  not  wrangle.     Bid  them  move  away ; 
Then  in  my  tent,  Cassius,  enlarge  your  griefs. 
And  I  will  give  you  audience. 

Cas.   Pindarus, 
Bid  our  commanders  lead  their  charges  off 
A  little  from  this  ground. 

520.  Bru.   Lucius,  do  you  the  like ;  and  let  no  man 
Come  to  our  tent,  till  we  have  done  our  conference. 
Lucilius  and  Titinius,  guard  our  door.  \Exeunt. 

SCENE  III.  —  Within  the  Tent  of  Brutus. 
Enter  Brutus  and  Cassius. 

521.  Cas.   That  you  have  wronged  me  doth  appear  in  this : 
You  have  condemned  and  noted  Lucius  Pella 

For  taking  bribes  here  of  the  Sardians ; 
Wherein  my  letters,  praying  on  his  side, 
Because  I  knew  the  man,  were  slighted  off. 

Bru.   You  wronged  yourself,  to  write  in  such  a  case. 
523.     Cas.  In  such  a  time  as  this,  it  is  not  meet 

That  every  nice  offence  should  bear  his  comment. 


no  Julius  Cjesar.  [act  iv. 

524.    Bru.   Let  me  tell  jou,  Cassius,  you  yourself 
Are  much  condemned  to  have  an  itching  palm, 
To  sell  and  mart  your  offices  for  gold 
To  undeservers. 

Cas.    I  an  itching  palm? 
You  know  that  you  are  Brutus  that  speaks  this, 
Or,  by  the  gods,  this  speech  were  else  your  last. 
526.     Bru.   The  name  of  Cassius  honors  this  corruption, 
And  chastisement  doth  therefore  hide  his  head. 

Cas.    Chastisement! 

528.  Bru.   Remember  March,  the  ides  of  March  remember ! 
Did  not  great  Julius  bleed  for  justice'  sake? 

What  villain  touched  his  body,  that  did  stab, 
And  not  for  justice?    What,  shall  one  of  us, 
That  struck  the  foremost  man  of  all  this  world. 
But  for  supporting  robbers,  shall  we  now 
Contaminate  our  fingers  with  base  bribes? 
And  sell  the  mighty  space  of  our  large  honors 
For  so  much  trash  as  may  be  grasped  thus?  — 
I  had  rather  be  a  dog,  and  bay  the  moon. 
Than  such  a  Roman, 

529.  Cas.   Brutus,  bay  not  me ; 

I'll  not  endure  it :  you  forget  yourself, 
To  hedge  me  in.     I  am  a  soldier,  I, 
Older  in  practice,  abler  than  yourself 
To  make  conditions. 

530.  Bru.   Go  to;  you  are  not,  Cassius. 
Cas.    I  am. 

Bru.   I  say,  you  are  not. 

533.  Cas.   Urge  me  no  more,  I  shall  forget  myself; 
Have  mind  upon  your  health,  tempt  me  no  further. 

534.  Bru.   Away,  slight  man  ! 
Cas.   Is't  possible  ? 

536.     Bru.    Hear  me,  for  I  will  speak. 

Must  I  give  way  and  room  to  your  rash  choler? 
Shall  I  be  frighted,  when  a  madman  stares? 

Cas.   O  ye  gods  !  ye  gods  I     Must  I  endure  all  this  ? 
538.     Bru.   All  this?    Ay,  more.    Fret  till  your  proud  heart 
break ; 
Go,  show  your  slaves  how  choleric  you  are, 
And  make  your  bondmen  tremble.    Must  I  budge  ? 


t 


I 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  iii 

Must  I  observe  you  ?    Must  I  stand  and  crouch 
Under  jour  testy  humour?    By  the  gods, 
You  shall  digest  the  venom  of  your  spleen, 
Though  it  do  split  you  :  for,  from  this  day  forth, 
I'll  use  you  for  my  mirth,  yea,  for  my  laughter, 
When  you  "are  waspish. 
Cas.   Is  it  come  to  this  ? 

540.  Bru.   You  say  you  are  a  better  soldier : 
Let  it  appear  so ;  make  your  vaunting  true, 
And  it  shall  please  me  v^^ell.     For  mine  own  part, 
I  shall  be  glad  to  learn  of  abler  men. 

541 .  Cas.  You  wrong  me  every  way,  you  wrong  me,  Brutus ; 
I  said  an  elder  soldier,  not  a  better : 

Did  I  say  better.? 

Bru.   If  you  did,  I  care  not. 

Cas.  When  Caesar  lived  he  durst  not  thus  have  moved 
me. 

Bru.  Peace,  peace;  you  durst  not  so  have  tempted 
him. 

Cas.   I  durst  not? 

Bru.   No. 

Cas.   What?  durst  not  tempt  him? 

Bru.   For  your  life  you  durst  not. 

Cas.  Do  not  presume  too  much  upon  my  love : 
I  may  do  that  I  shall  be  sorry  for. 
550.     Bru.   You  have  done  that  you  should  be  sorry  for. 
There  is  no  terror,  Cassius,  in  your  threats ; 
For  I  am  armed  so  strong  in  honesty. 
That  they  pass  by  me  as  the  idle  wind. 
Which  I  respect  not.     I  did  send  to  you 
For  certain  sums  of  gold,  which  you  denied  me ;  — 
For  I  can  raise  no  money  by  vile  means  : 
By  heaven,  I  had  rather  coin  my  heart. 
And  drop  my  blood  for  drachmas,  than  to  wring 
From  the  hard  hands  of  peasants  their  vile  trash 
By  any.  indirection.     I  did  send 
To  you  for  gold  to  pay  my  legions. 
Which  you  denied  me.     Was  that  done  like  Cassius? 
Should  I  have  answered  Caius  Cassius  so? 
When  Marcus  Brutus  grows  so  covetous. 
To  lock  such  rascal -counters  from  his  friends. 


112  Julius  C^sar.  [act  iv. 

Be  readj,  gods,  with  all  your  thunderbolts ; 
Dash  him  to  pieces  ! 

Cas.   I  denied  you  not. 

Bru.   You  did. 
553.     Cas.   I  did  not :  —  he  was  but  a  fool 

That  brought  my  answer  back.  —  Brutus  hath  rived  my 

heart : 
A  friend  should  bear  his  friend's  infirmities, 
But  Brutus  makes  mine  greater  than  they  are. 

Bru.  I  do  not,  till  you  practise  them  on  me. 

Cas.   You  love  me  not. 

Bru.   I  do  not  like  your  faults. 

Cas.  A  friendly  eye  could  never  see  such  faults. 

558.  Bru.  A  flatterer's  would  not,  though  they  do  appear 
As  huge  as  high  Olympus. 

559.  Cas.   Come,  Antony,  and  young  Octavius,  come, 
Revenge  yourselves  alone  on  Cassius  ! 

For  Cassius  is  aweary  of  the  world  : 

Hated  by  one  he  loves ;  braved  by  his  brother; 

Checked  like  a  bondman ;  all  his  faults  observed, 

Set  in  a  note-book,  learned  and  conned  by  rote, 

To  cast  into  my  teeth.     O,  I  could  weep 

My  spirit  from  mine  eyes !  —  There  is  my  dagger, 

And  here  my  naked  breast;  within,  a  heart 

Dearer  than  Plutus'  mine,  richer  than  gold : 

If  that  thou  beest  a  Roman,  take  it  forth ; 

I,  that  denied  thee  gold,  will  give  my  heart  ^ 

Strike,  as  thou  didst  at  Caesar;  for,  I  know, 

When  thou  didst  hate  him  worst,  thou  lovedst  him  better 

Than  ever  thou  lovedst  Cassius. 

560.  Bru.    Sheathe  your  dagger : 

Be  angry  when  you  will,  it  shall  have  scope ; 
Do  what  you  will,  dishonor  shall  be  humour. 
O  Cassius,  you  are  yoked  with  a  lamb, 
That  carries  anger  as  the  flint  bears  fire ; 
Who,  much  enforced,  shows  a  hasty  spark, 
And  straight  is  cold  again. 

561.  Cas.   Hath  Cassius  lived 

To  be  but  mirth  and  laughter  to  his  Brutus, 
When  grief,  and  blood  ill-tempered,  vexeth  him? 
Bru.   When  I  spoke  that,  I  was  ill-tempered  too. 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  113 

Cas.  Do  jou  confess  so  much?    Give  me  your  hand. 

Bru.   And  mj  heart  too. 

Cas.   O  Brutus!  — 

Bru.   What's  the  matter? 

567.  Cas.  Have  not  jou  love  enough  to  bear  with  me, 
When  that  rash  humour  which  mj  mother  gave  me 
Makes  me  forgetful  ? 

568.  Bru.   Yes,  Cassius ;  and  from  henceforth, 
When  you  are  over-earnest  with  your  Brutus, 
He'll  think  your  mother  chides,  and  leave  you  so. 

\^Noise  luithin, 

569.  Poet.   [  Within.'\   Let  me  go  in  to  see  the  generals : 
There  is  some  grudge  between  'em ;  'tis  not  meet 
They  be  alone. 

570.  Lucil.    [  Within.'\   You  shall  not  come  to  them. 
Poet.    [  Within.']  Nothing  but  death  shall  stay  me. 

Enter  Poet. 
Cas.   How  now?    What's  the  matter? 

573.  Poet.   For  shame,  you  generals  !    What  do  you  mean? 
Love,  and  be  friends,  as  two  such  men  should  be; 

For  I  have  seen  more  years,  I'm  sure,  than  ye. 

574.  Cas.   Ha,  ha !  how  vilely  doth  this  Cynic  rhyme  1 
Bru.   Get  you  hence,  sirrah  !  saucy  fellow,  hence  I 
Cas.   Bear  with  him,  Brutus ;  'tis  his  fashion. 

577.     Bru.   I'll  know  his  humour  when  he  knows  his  time. 
What  should  the  wars  do  with  these  jigging  fools  ? 
Companion,  hence ! 

Cas.   Away !  away,  be  gone  I  \Exit  Poet. 

Enter  Lucilius  and  Titinius. 

579.    Bru.   Lucilius  and  Titinius,  bid  the  commanders 

Prepare  to  lodge  their  companies  to-night. 
[580.     Cas.   And  come  yourselves,  and  bring  Messala  with 
you. 
Immediately  to  us.         [Exeunt  Lucilius  and  Titinius. 
Bru.   Lucius,  a  bowl  of  wine. 

Cas.   1  did  not  think  you  could  have  been  so  angry. 
Bru.   O  Cassius,  I  am  sick  of  many  griefs. 
Cas.   Of  your  philosophy  you  make  no  use, 
If  you  give  place  to  accidental  evils. 
8 


114  Julius  Cjesar.  [act  iv. 

Bru.  No  man  bears  sorrow  better.  —  Portia  is  dead. 

Cas.  Ha!  Portia? 

Bru.  She  is  dead. 

588.  Cas.  How  'scaped  I  killing,  when  I  crossed  you  so?  — 

0  insupportable  and  touching  loss  !  — 
Upon  what  sickness  ? 

589.  Bru.    Impatient  of  my  absence ; 

And  grief,  that  young  Octavius  with  Mark  Antony 
Have  made  themselves  so  strong ;  —  for  with  her  death 
That  tidings  came ;  —  with  this  she  fell  distract, 
And,  her  attendants  absent,  swallowed  fire. 
Cas.   And  died  so? 
Bru.   Even  so. 
592.     Cas.   O  ye  immortal  gods  ! 

Enter  Lucius,  tvitk  Wine  and  Takers. 

Bru.   Speak  no  more  of  her.  —  Give  me  a  bowl  of 
wine : — 
In  this  I  bury  all  unkindness,  Cassius.  {Drinks. 

Cas.   My  heart  is  thirsty  for  that  noble  pledge.  — 
Fill,  Lucius,  till  the  wine  o'erswell  the  cup ; 

1  cannot  drink  too  much  of  Brutus'  love.  {Drinks. 

Re-enter  Tit»nius,  -with  Messala. 
595.    Bru.  Come  in,  Titinius. — Welcome,  good  Messala. — 
Now  sit  we  close  about  this  taper  here, 
And  call  in  question  our  necessities. 
Cas.   Portia,  art  thou  gone  ? 

597.  Bru.   No  more,  I  pray  you.  — 
Messala,  I  have  here  received  letters, 
That  young  Octavius,  and  Mark  Antony, 
Come  down  upon  us  with  a  mighty  power, 
Bending  their  expedition  toward  Philippi. 

598.  Mes.   Myself  have  letters  of  the  self-same  tenour. 
Bru.   With  what  addition  ? 

600.     Mes.   That  by  proscription  and  bills  of  outlawry, 
Octavius,  Antony,  and  Lepidus 
Have  put  to  death  an  hundred  senators. 

Bru.   Therein  our  letters  do  not  well  agree : 
Mine  speak  of  seventy  senators  that  died 
By  their  proscriptions,  Cicero  being  one. 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  115 

Cas.   Cicero  one  ? 
603.     Mes.    Cicero  is  dead, 

And  by  that  order  of  proscription.  — 

Had  jou  your  letters  from  your  wife,  my  lord? 

Bru.   No,  Messala. 

Mes.  Nor  nothing  in  your  letters  writ  of  her? 

Bru.   Nothing,  Messala. 

Mes.   That,  methinks,  is  strange. 

Bru.   Why  ask  you  ?   Hear  you  aught  of  her  in  you 

Mes.    No,  my  lord. 

Bru.  Now,  as  you  are  a  Roman,  tell  me  true. 

Mes.   Then  like  a  Roman  bear  the  truth  I  tell : 
For  certain  she  is  dead,  and  by  strange  manner. 
612.    Bru.   Why,  farewell,  Portia.  —  We  must  die,  Messala 
With  meditating  that  she  must  die  once, 
I  have  the  patience  to  endure  it  now. 

Mes.   Even  so  great  men  great  losses  should  endure. 

614.  Cas.   I  have  as  much  of  this  in  art  as  you, 
But  yet  my  nature  could  not  bear  it  so. 

615.  Bru.   Well,  to  our  work  alive.     What  do  you  think 
Of  marching  to  Philippi  presently? 

Cas.   I  do  not  think  it  good. 
Bru.   Your  reason  ? 

618.  Cas.   This  it  is  : 

'Tis  better  that  the  enemy  seek  us  : 
So  shall  he  waste  his  means,  weary  his  soldiers, 
Doing  himself  offence;  whilst  we,  lying  still, 
Are  full  of  rest,  defence,  and  nimbleness. 

619.  Bru.   Good  reasons  must,  of  force,  give  place  to  bettVv. 
The  people  'twixt  Philippi  and  this  ground 

Do  stand  but  in  a  forced  affection ; 

For  they  have  grudged  us  contribution  ; 

The  enemy,  marching  along  by  them, 

By  them  shall  make  a  fuller  number  up, 

Come  on  refreshed,  new-hearted,  and  encouraged; 

From  which  advantage  shall  we  cut  him  off 

If  at  Philippi  we  do  face  him  there. 

These  people  at  our  back. 

Cas.    Hear  me,  good  brother. 
621.     Bru.   Under  your  pardon.  — You  must  note  besid« 
That  we  have  tried  the  utmost  of  our  friends  : 


ii6  Julius  C^sar.  [act  iv. 

Our  legions  are  brim-full,  our  cause  is  ripe ; 

The  enemj  increaseth  every  day; 

We,  at  the  height,  are  ready  to  decline. 

There  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men, 

Which,  taken  at  the  flood,  leads  on  to  fortune; 

Omitted,  all  the  voyage  of  their  life 

Is  bound  in  shallow^s,  and  in  miseries. 

On  such  a  full  sea  are  we  now  afloat ; 

And  we  must  take  the  current  when  it  serves, 

Or  lose  our  ventures. 

622.  Cas.   Then,  with  your  will,  go  on ; 

We'll  along  ourselves,  and  meet  them  at  Philippi. 

623.  Bru.  The  deep  of  night  is  crept  upon  our  talk, 
And  nature  must  obey  necessity ; 

Which  we  will  niggard  with  a  little  rest. 
There  is  no  more  to  say? 

624.  Cas.   No  more.     Good  night ! 

Early  to-morrow  will  we  rise,  and  hence. 

625.  Bru.   Lucius,  my  gown.  l^xti  Lucius. 

Farewell,  good  Messala  I  — 
Good  night,  Titinius!  —  Noble,  noble  Cassius, 
Good  night,  and  good  repose ! 

Cas.   O  my  dear  brother. 
This  was  an  ill  beginning  of  the  night : 
Never  come  such  division  'tween  our  souls  1 
Let  it  not,  Brutus. 

Bru.   Everything  is  well. 

Cas.   Good  night,  my  lord  I 

Bru.   Good  night,  good  brother  I 

Til.    Mes.   Good  night,  lord  Brutus  1 

Bru.  Farewell,  every  one ! 

\_Exeunt  Cassius,  Titinius,  and  Messala* 

Re-enter  Lucius,  tvith  the  Goivn. 

Give  me  the  gown.     Where  is  thy  instrument? 
Luc.   Here,  in  the  tent. 

633.  Bru.   What,  thou  speak'st  drowsily? 

Poor  knave,  I  blame  thee  not ;  thou  art  o'erwatched. 
Call  Claudius,  and  some  other  of  my  men; 
I'll  have  them  sleep  on  cushions  in  my  tent. 

634.  Luc.   Varro  and  Claudius  I 


sc.  in.]  Julius  C-^sar.  117 


Enter  Varro  and  Claudius. 

Var.   Calls  my  lord  ? 
636.     Bru.  I  pray  you,  Sirs,  lie  in  my  tent,  and  sleep ; 
It  may  be,  I  shall  raise  you  by  and  by 
On  business  to  my  brother  Cassius. 

Var.   So  please  you,  we  will  stand,  and  watch  your 
pleasure. 
638.     Bru.   I  will  not  have  it  so  :  lie  down,  good  Sirs ; 
It  may  be  I  shall  otherwise  bethink  me. 
Look,  Lucius,  here's  the  book  I  sought  for  so ; 
I  put  it  in  the  pocket  of  my  gown.  [Servants  lie  dawn, 
Luc.   I  was  sure  your  lordship  did  not  give  it  me. 
640.     Bru.   Bear  with  me,  good  boy ;  I  am  much  forgetful. 
Canst  thou  hold  up  thy  heavy  eyes  awhile, 
And  touch  thy  instrument  a  strain  or  two  ? 
Luc.   Ay,  my  lord,  an't  please  you. 
Bru.   It  does,  my  boy  : 
I  trouble  thee  too  much,  but  thou  art  willing. 
Luc.   It  is  my  duty,  Sir. 
644.    Bru.   I  should  not  urge  thy  duty  past  thy  might ; 
I  know  young  bloods  look  for  a  time  of  rest. 
Luc.   I  have  slept,  my  lord,  already. 
646.    Bru.   It  was  well  done ;  and  thou  shalt  sleep  again ; 
I  will  not  hold  thee  long:  if  I  do  live, 
I  will  be  good  to  thee.  {^Music  and  a  song* 

This  is  a  sleepy  tune.  — O  murderous  slumber, 
Lay'st  thou  thy  leaden  mace  upon  my  boy. 
That  plays  thee  music?  —  Gentle  knave,  good  night; 
I  will  not  do  thee  so  much  wrong  to  wake  thee. 
If  thou  dost  nod,  thou  break'st  thy  instrument; 
fc^^  -    I'll  take  it  from  thee ;  and,  good  boy,  good  night. 
Hl      Let  me  see,  let  me  see ;  —  is  not  the  leaf  turned  down, 


Enter  the  Ghost  <7/'C^sar. 

How  ill  this  taper  burns !  —  Ha  I  who  comes  here? 

I  think  it  is  the  weakness  of  mine  eyes 

That  shapes  this  monstrous  apparition. 

It  comes  upon  me.  — Art  thou  anything? 

Art  thou  some  god,  some  angel,  or  some  devil, 


ii8  Julius  C^sar.  [act  iv. 

That  mak'st  my  blood  cold,  and  my  hair  to  stare? 
Speak  to  me  what  thou  art. 

647.  Ghost.   Thy  evil  spirit,  Brutus. 

648.  Bru.   Why  com'st  thou  ? 

Ghost.  To  tell  thee,  thou  shalt  see  me  at  Philippi. 

650.  Bru.   Well ;  then  I  shall  see  thee  again  ? 

651.  Ghost.  Ay,  at  Philippi.  [Ghost  vanishes, 

652.  Bru.   Why,  I  will  see  thee  at  Philippi  then.  — 
Now  I  have  taken  heart,  thou  vanishest : 

III  spirit,  I  would  hold  more  talk  with  thee.  — 

Boy !     Lucius  I  —  Varro !     Claudius !     Sirs,  awake  I  — 

Claudius ! 

Luc.   The  strings,  my  lord,  are  false. 

Bru.   He  thinks,  he  still  is  at  his  instrument.  — 
Lucius,  awake ! 

Luc.   My  lord ! 

Bru.  Didst  thou  dream,  Lucius,  that  thou  so  criedst 
out.? . 

Luc.  My  lord,  I  do  not  know  that  I  did  cry. 

Bru.  Yes,  that  thou  didst.    Didst  thou  see  anything? 

Luc.   Nothing,  my  lord. 
660.    Bru.   Sleep  again,  Lucius.  —  Sirrah,  Claudius  I 
Fellow  thou !  awake  I 

Var.   My  lord  I 

Clau.   My  lord  I 

Bru.   Why  did  you  so  cry  out,  Sirs,  in  your  sleep? 

Var.    Clau.   Did  we,  my  lord  ? 

Bru.   Ay:  saw  you  anything  ? 

Var.  No,  my  lord,  I  saw  nothing. 

Clau.  Nor  I,  my  lord. 
668.    Bru.   Go,  and  commend  me  to  my  brother  Cassius ; 
Bid  him  set  on  his  powers  betimes  before, 
And  we  will  follow. 

Var,   Clau.  It  shall  be  done,  my  lord.  [JSxeunf* 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  119 


ACTV. 

SCENE  I.  —  The  Plains  of  PkiUpfi. 

Enter  Octavius,  Antony,  and  their  Army. 

670.  Oct.  Now,  Antony,  our  hopes  are  answered. 
You  said  the  enemy  would  not  come  down, 
But  keep  the  hills  and  upper  regions  : 

It  proves  not  so ;  their  battles  are  at  hand ; 
They  mean  to  warn  us  at  Philippi  here, 
Answering  before  we  do  demand  of  them. 

671.  Ant.   Tut!  I  am  in  their  bosoms,  and  I  know 
Wherefore  they  do  it :  they  could  be  content 
To  visit  other  places ;  and  come  down 

With  fearful  bravery,  thinking  by  this  face 

To  fasten  in  our  thoughts  that  they  have  courage ; 

But  'tis  not  so. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.   Prepare  you,  generals : 
The  enemy  comes  on  in  gallant  show; 
Their  bloody  sign  of  battle  is  hung  out, 
And  something  to  be  done  immediately. 

673.  Ant.   Octavius,  lead  your  battle  softly  on. 
Upon  the  left  hand  of  the  even  field. 

674.  Oct.   Upon  the  right  hand  I ;  keep  thou  the  left. 

675.  Ant.   Why  do  you  cross  me  in  this  exigent? 

Oct.   I  do  not  cross  you ;  but  I  will  do  so.        {March. 

Drum.     Enter  Brutus,  Cassius,  and  their  Army  ;  LuciL- 
lus,  TiTiNius,  Messala,  and  others. 

677.     Bru.   They  stand,  and  would  have  parley. 

Cas.   Stand  fast,  Titinius  :  we  must  out  and  talk. 

679.  Oct.   Mark  Antony,  shall  we  give  sign  of  battle? 

680.  Ant.   No,  Caesar,  we  will  answer  on  their  charge. 
Make  forth ;  the  generals  would  have  some  words. 

Oct.   Stir  not  until  the  signal. 

Bru.   Words  before  blows  :  is  it  so,  countrymen  ? 

Oct.  Not  that  we  love  words  better,  as  you  do. 

Bru.  Good  words  are  better  than  bad  strokes,  Octavius. 


I20  Julius  C^sar.  [act  v. 

Ant.  In  your  bad  sfrokes,  Brutus,  you  give  good  words  : 
Witness  the  hole  you  made  in  Caesar's  heart, 
Crying,  Long  live  I    Hail,  Ccesar  ! 
686.     Cas.   Antony, 

The  posture  of  your  blows  are  yet  unknown ; 
But  for  your  words,  they  rob  the  Hybla  bees, 
And  leave  them  honeyless. 

Ant.   Not  stingless  too. 

Bru.   O,  yes,  and  soundless  too ; 
For  you  have  stolen  their  buzzing,  Antony, 
And,  very  wisely,  threat  before  you  sting. 

689.  Ant.  Villains,  you  did  not  so,  when  your  vile  dag- 

gers 
Hacked  one  another  in  the  sides  of  Caesar : 
You  showed  your  teeth  like  apes,  and  fawned  like  hounds, 
And  bowed  like  bondmen,  kissing  Caesar's  feet; 
Whilst  damned  Casca,  like  a  cur,  behind. 
Struck  Caesar  on  the  neck.     O  you  flatterers ! 

690.  Cas.   Flatterers !  —  Now,  Brutus,  thank  yourself: 
This  tongue  had  not  offended  so  to-day, 

If  Cassius^might  have  ruled. 

691.  Oct.  Come,  come,  the  cause:  if  arguing  make  us 

sweat. 
The  proof  of  it  will  turn  to  redder  drops. 
Look! 

I  draw  a  sword  against  conspirators ; 
^       When  think  you  that  the  sword  goes  up  again?  — 
Never,  till  Caesar's  three  and  thirty  wounds 
Be  well  avenged ;  or  till  another  Caesar 
Have  added  slaughter  to  the  sword  of  traitors. 

692.  Bru.   Caesar,  thou  canst  not  die  by  traitors'  hands, 
Unless  thou  bring'st  them  with  thee. 

Oct.   So  I  hope ; 
I  was  not  born  to  die  on  Brutus'  sword. 
694.     Bru.   O,  if  thou  wert  the  noblest  of  thy  strain, 
Young  man,  thou  couldst  not  die  more  honorable. 

Cas.  A  peevish  schoolboy,  worthless  of  such  honor, 
Joined  with  a  masker  and  a  reveller. 
Ant.   Old  Cassius  still  I 
697.     Oct.   Come,  Antony ;  away  I  — 

Defiance,  traitors,  hurl  we  in  your  teeth. 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  121 

If  you  dare  fight  to-day,  come  to  the  field ; 
If  not,  when  you  have  stomachs. 

{^Exeunt  OcTAVius,  ANTONY,  and  their  army. 
Cas.   Why  now,  blow,  wind ;  swell,  billow;  and  swim, 
bark! 
The  storm  is  up,  and  all  is  on  the  hazard. 
699.     Bru.   Ho  !  Lucilius  ;  hark,  a  word  with  you. 
Lucil.   My  lord ! 

[Brutus  and  Lucilius  converse  apart. 
Cas.   Messala, — 
Mes.   What  says  my  general  ? 
703.     Cas.   Messala, 

This  is  my  birth-day;  as  this  very  day 
Was  Cassius  born.     Give  me  thy  hand,  Messala : 
Be  thou  my  witness,  that,  against  my  will, 
As  Pompey  was,  am  I  compelled  to  set 
Upon  one  battle  all  our  liberties. 
You  know  that  I  held  Epicurus  strong, 
And  his  opinion  :  now  I  change  my  mind, 
And  partly  credit  things  that  do  presage. 
Coming  from  Sardis,  on  our  former  ensign 
Two  mighty  eagles  fell,  and  there  they  perched, 
Gorging  and  feeding  from  our  soldiers'  hands ; 
Who  to  Philippi  here  consorted  us  : 
This  morning  are  they  fled  away,  and  gone, 
And  in  their  steads  do  ravens,  crows,  and  kites 
Fly  o'er  our  heads,  and  downward  look  on  us, 
As  we  were  sickly  prey ;  their  shadows  seem 
A  canopy  most  fatal,  under  which 
Our  army  lies,  ready  to  give  up  the  ghost. 
Mes.   Believe  not  so. 
705.     Cas.   I  but  believe  it  partly ; 

For  I  am  fresh  of  spirit,  and  resolved 
To  meet  all  perils  very  constantly. 
Bru.   Even  so,  Lucilius. 
707.     Cas.   Now,  most  noble  Brutus, 

The  gods  to-day  stand  friendly,  that  we  may, 
Lovers  in  peace,  lead  on  our  days  to  age  1 
But,  since  the  affairs  of  men  rest  still  uncertain, 
Let's  reason  with  the  worst  that  may  befall. 
If  we  do  lose  this  battle,  then  is  this 


122  Julius  C^sar.  [act  v. 

The  very  last  time  we  shall  speak  together : 
What  are  you  then  determined  to  do  ? 
708.     Bru.   Even  by  the  rule  of  that  philosophy, 
By  which  I  did  blame  Cato  for  the  death 
Which  he  did  give  himself,  I  know  not  how, 
But  I  do  find  it  cowardly  and  vile, 
For  fear  of  what  might  fall,  so  to  prevent 
The  term  of  life ;  —  arming  myself  with  patience, 
To  stay  the  providence  of  those  high  powers 
That  govern  us  below. 

Cas.   Then,  if  we  lose  this  battle, 
You  are  contented  to  be  led  in  triumph 
Thorough  the  streets  of  Rome  ? 
710.     Bru.   No,  Cassius,  no  :  think  not,  thou  noble  Roman, 
That  ever  Brutus  will  go  bound  to  Rome ; 
He  bears  too  great  a  mind.     But  this  same  day 
Must  end  that  work  the  ides  of  March  begun ; 
And  whether  we  shall  meet  again,  I  know  not. 
Therefore,  our  everlasting  farewell  take  :  — 
For  ever,  and  for  ever,  farewell,  Cassius ! 
If  we  do  meet  again,  why  we  shall  smile ; 
If  not,  why  then,  this  parting  was  well  made. 

Cas.   For  ever,  and  for  ever,  farewell,  Brutus ! 
If  we  do  meet  again,  we'll  smile  indeed ; 
If  not,  'tis  true,  this  parting  was  well  made. 

Bru.   Why  then,   lead   on.  —  O  that  a  man   might 
know 
The  end  of  this  day's  business  ere  it  come  I 
But  it  suflSceth  that  the  day  will  end, 
And  then  the  end  is  known.  —  Come,  ho  I  away ! 

» 
SCENE  II.  —  The  same.     The  Field  of  Battle. 

Alarum.  —  Enter  Brutus  and  Messala. 

713.     Bru.   Ride,  ride,  Messala,  ride,  and  give  these  bills 
Unto  the  legions  on  the  other  side.  \_Loud  alarum. 

Let  them  set  on  at  once  :  for  I  perceive 
But  cold  demeanour  in  Octavius'  wing. 
And  sudden  push  gives  them  the  overthrow. 
Ride,  ride,  Messala :  let  them  all  come  down.    \_E9teunt. 


I 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  123 

SCENE  III.  —  The  same.     Another  pari  of  the  Field, 
Alarums.  —  Enter  Cassius  and  Titinius. 

714.  Cas.    O,  look,  Titinius,  look;  the  villains  fly! 
Myself  have  to  mine  own  turned  enemy : 

This  ensign  here  of  mine  was  turning  back; 
I  slew  the  coward,  and  did  take  it  from  him. 

715.  Tit.   O  Cassius,  Brutus  gave  the  word  too  early; 
Who,  having  some  advantage  on  Octavius, 

Took  it  too  eagerly;  his  soldiers  fell  to  spoil, 
Whilst  we  by  Antony  are  all  enclosed. 

Enter  Pindarus. 

716.  Pin.   Fly  further  off,  my  lord,  fly  further  oflf; 
Mark  Antony  is  in  your  tents,  my  lord ! 
Fly  therefore,  noble  Cassius,  fly  far  off". 

Cas.   This  hill  is  far  enough.     Look,  look,  Titinius; 
Are  those  my  tents,  where  I  perceive  the  fire? 

Tit.   They  are,  my  lord. 
719.     Cas.   Titinius,  if  thou  lov'st  me, 

Mount  thou  my  horse,  and  hide  thy  spurs  in  him, 
Till  he  have  brought  thee  up  to  yonder  troops 
And  here  again ;  that  I  may  rest  assured, 
Whether  yond  troops  are  friend  or  enemy. 

Tit.   I  will  be  here  again  even  with  a  thought.   \Extt. 
721.     Cas.   Go,  Pindarus,  get  higher  on  that  hill; 
My  sight  was  ever  thick ;  regard  Titinius, 
And  tell  me  what  thou  not'st  about  the  field.  — 

\^Exit  Pindarus. 
This  day  I  breathed  first :  time  is  come  round, 
And,  where  I  did  begin,  there  shall  I  end ; 
My  life  is  run  his  compass.  —  Sirrah,  what  news? 

Pin.    \Above.'\    O  my  lord ! 

Cas.   What  news  ? 
724.     Pin.   Titinius  is  enclosed  round  about 

With  horsemen,  that  make  to  him  on  the  spur;  — 
Yet  he  spurs  on.  —  Now  they  are  almost  on  him. 
Now,  Titinius !  — 

Now  some  light :  —  O,  he  lights  too  : —  \Sk(mi» 

He's  ta'en ;  —  and,  hark !  ^ 

They  shout  for  joy. 


124  Julius  C^sar.  [act  v. 

725.     Cas.    Come  down  ;  behold  no  more. 
O,  coward  that  I  am,  to  live  so  long, 
To  see  my  best  friend  ta'en  before  my  face  1 

Enter  Pindarus. 

Come  hither,  sirrah ! 

In  Parthia  did  I  take  thee  prisoner ; 

And  then  I  swore  thee,  saving  of  thy  life, 

That,  whatsoever  I  did  bid  thee  do. 

Thou  shouldst  attempt  it.     Come  now,  keep  thine  oath  I 

Now  be  a  freeman ;  and  with  this  good  sword, 

That  ran  through  Caesar's  bowels,  search  this  bosom. 

Stand  not  to  answer :  here,  take  thou  the  hilts ; 

And  when  my  face  is  covered,  as  'tis  now, 

Guide  thou  the  sword.  —  Caesar,  thou  art  revenged, 

Even  with  the  sword  that  killed  thee.  \^Dtes. 

Pin.    So,  I  am  free ;  yet  would  not  so  have  been, 
Durst  I  have  done  my  will.     O  Cassius  ! 
Far  from  this  country  Pindarus  shall  run. 
Where  never  Roman  shall  take  note  of  him.  {Exit, 

Re-enter  TiTiNros,  luitJt  Messala. 

727.    Mes.   Itjs  but  change,  Titinius ;  for  Octavius 
Is  overthrown  by  noble  Brutus'  power, 
As  Cassius'  legions  are  by  Antony. 

Tit.  These  tidings  will  well  comfort  Cassius. 

Mes.    Where  did  you  leave  him  ? 

Tit.   All  disconsolate, 
With  Pindarus  his  bondman,  on  this  hill. 

Mes.   Is  not  that  he,  that  lies  upon  the  ground? 

Tit.   He  lies  not  like  the  living.     O  my  heart  I 

Mes.  Is  not  that  he .'' 

734.  Tit.  No,  this  was  he,  Messala ; 

But  Cassius  is  no  more. —  O  setting  sun ! 

As  in  thy  red  rays  thou  dost  sink  to  night, 

So  in  his  red  blood  Cassius'  day  is  set ; 

The  sun  of  Rome  is  set!     Our  day  is  gone; 

Clouds,  dews,  and  dangers  come ;  our  deeds  are  done  1 

Mistrust  of  my  success  hath  done  this  deed. 

735.  Mes.   Mistrust  of  good  success  hath  done  this  deed. 
O  hateful  Error  I    Melancholy's  child  I 


I 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  125 

Why  dost  thou  show  to  the  apt  thoughts  of  men 
The  things  that  are  not?     O  Error,  soon  conceived, 
Thou  never  com'st  unto  a  happy  birth, 
But  kill'st  the  mother  that  engendered  thee. 

Tit.   What,  Pindarus!     Where  art  thou,  Pindarus? 

Mes.    Seek  him,  Titinius,  whilst  I  go  to  meet 
The  noble  Brutus,  thrusting  this  report 
Into  his  ears  :  I  may  say,  thrusting  it ; 
For  piercing  steel,  and  darts  envenomed, 
Shall  be  as  welcome  to  the  ears  of  Brutus 
As  tidings  of  this  sight. 
738.     Tit.   Hie  you,  Messala, 

And  I  will  seek  for  Pindarus  the  while.  {Exit  MesSALA. 

Why  didst  thou  send  me  forth,  brave  Cassius.f* 

Did  I  not  meet  thy  friends.''  and  did  not  they 

Put  on  my  brows  this  wreath  of  victory, 

And  bid  me  give  it  thee?    Didst  thou  not  hear  their 

shouts  ? 
Alas,  thou  hast  misconstrued  everything. 
But  hold  thee,  take  this  garland  on  thy  brow; 
Thy  Brutus  bid  me  give  it  thee,  and  I 
Will  do  his  bidding.  —  Brutus,  come  apace, 
And  see  how  I  regarded  Caius  Cassius.  — 
By  your  leave,  gods  :  —  this  is  a  Roman's  part : 
Come,  Cassius'  sword,  and  find  Titinius'  heart.     \Dies. 

Alarum.  —  Re-enter  Messala,  tvith  Brutus,  young  QKto^ 
Strato,  Volumnius,  flW^LuCILIUS. 

Bru.   Where,  where,  Messala,  doth  his  body  lie? 
740.     Mes.   Lo,  yonder;  and  Titinius  mourning  it. 
Bru.   Titinius'  face  is  upward. 
Cato.    He  is  slain. 

743.  Bru.   O  Julius  Cajsar,  thou  art  mighty  yet  I 
Thy  spirit  walks  abroad,  and  turns  our  swords 

In  our  own  proper  entrails.  \_L.o-w  alarums* 

744.  Cato.    Brave  Titinius  ! 

Look,  whe'r  he  have  not  crowned  dead  Cassius  I 
745*     Bru.   Are  yet  two  Romans  living  such  as  these?  — 
The  last  of  all  the  Romans,  fare  thee  well  I 
It  is  impossible  that  ever  Rome 
Should  breed  thy  fellow.  —  Friends,  I  owe  moe  tears 


126  Julius  Cjesar.  [act  v. 

To  this  dead  man,  than  you  shall  see  me  pay.  — 

I  shall  find  time,  Cassius,  I  shall  find  time.  — 

Come,  therefore,  and  to  Thassos  send  his  body : 

His  funerals  shall  not  be  in  our  camp, 

Lest  it  discomfort  us.  —  Lucilius,  come ;  — 

And  come,  young  Cato ;  let  us  to  the  field.  — 

Labeo,  and  Flavins,  set  our  battles  on  :  — 

'Tis  three  o'clock ;  and,  Romans,  yet  ere  night 

We  shall  try  fortune  in  a  second  fight.  [^Exeunt. 


SCENE  IV.  —  Another  i>art  of  the  Field. 

Alarum. — Enter ^  fightings  Soldiers  of  both  Armies  ;   then 
Brutus,  Cato,  Lucilius,  and  others. 

Bru.  Yet,  countrymen,  O,  yet  hold  up  your  heads ! 
747.     Cato.   What  bastard  doth  not.'*    Who  will  go  with  me? 
I  will  proclaim  vcvy  name  about  the  field  :  — 
I  am  the  son  of  Marcus  Cato,  ho ! 
A  foe  to  tyrants,  and  my  country's  friend ; 
I  am  the  son  of  Marcus  Cato,  ho !     [^Charges  the  enemy. 

Bru.    And  I  am  Brutus,  Marcus  Brutus,  I; 
Brutus,  my  country's  friend  ;  know  me  for  Brutus. 

{_Exit,  charging  the  enemy.     Cato  is 
overpowered,  and  falls. 
Lucil.   O  young  and  noble  Cato,  art  thou  down? 
Why,  now  thou  diest  as  bravely  as  Titinius ; 
And  mayst  be  honored,  being  Cato's  son. 

1  Sold.   Yield,  or  thou  diest. 

751.  Lucil.   Only  I  yield  to  die  : 

There  is  so  much,  that  thou  wilt  kill  me  straight; 

[  Offering  money. 
Kill  Brutus,  and  be  honored  in  his  death. 

752.  I  Sold.   We  must  not.  —  A  noble  prisoner ! 

2  Sold.   Room,  ho  !     Tell  Antony,  Brutus  is  ta'en. 
754.     I  Sold.   I'll  tell  the  news.  —  Here  comes  the  general. — 

Enter  Antony. 
Brutus  is  ta'en,  Brutus  is  ta'en,  my  lord. 
Ant.   Where  is  he  ? 
Lucil.   Safe,  Antony ;  Brutus  is  safe  enough. 


sc.  v.]  Julius  C^sar.  127 

I  dare  assure  thee,  that  no  enemy 
Shall  ever  take  alive  the  noble  Brutus  : 
The  gods  defend  him  from  so  great  a  shame ! 
When  you  do  find  him,  or  alive  or  dead, 
He  will  be  found  like  Brutus,  like  himself. 
757.      Ant.   This  is  not  Brutus,  friend ;  but,  I  assure  you, 
A  prize  no  less  in  worth.     Keep  this  man  safe ; 
Give  him  all  kindness  :  I  had  rather  have 
Such  men  my  friends  than  enemies.     Go  on, 
And  see  whe'r  Brutus  be  alive  or  dead ; 
And  bring  us  word  unto  Octavius'  tent 
How  everything  is  chanced.  \Exeunt 


SCENE   V,  —  Another  fart  of  the  Field. 
Enter  Brutus,  Dardanius,  Clitus,  Strato,  and 

VOLUMNIUS. 

Bru.   Come,  poor  remains  of  friends,  rest  on  this  rock. 

C//.    Statilius  showed  the  torch-light ;  but,  my  lord, 
He  came  not  back :  he  is  or  ta'en  or  slain. 
760.     Bru.   Sit  thee  down,  Clitus.     Slaying  is  the  word; 
It  is  a  deed  in  fashion.     Hark  thee,  Clitus.  — 

[  Whispering. 

Cli.   What!  I,  my  lord?    No,  not  for  all  the  world. 

Bru.   Peace,  then  !  no  words. 

Cli.   I'll  rather  kill  myself. 

Bru.   Hark  thee,  Dardanius  !  [  Whispers  him, 

Dar.   Shall  I  do  such  a  deed? 

Cli.   O  Dardanius  I 

Dar.   O  Clitus ! 

Cli.   What  ill  request  did  Brutus  make  to  thee? 

Dar.   To  kill  him,  Clitus.     Look,  he  meditates. 
770.     Cli.   Now  is  that  noble  vessel  full  of  grief, 
That  it  runs  over  even  at  his  eyes. 

Bru.   Come  hither,  good  Volumnius ;  list  a  word. 

Vol.   What  says  my  lord? 
773.     Bru.    Why,  this,  Volumnius  : 

The  ghost  of  Caesar  hath  appeared  to  me 
Two  several  times  by  night :  at  Sardis,  once  j 
And,  this  last  night,  here  in  Philippi  fields. 
I  know  my  hour  is  come. 


128  Julius  C^sar.  [act  v. 

Vol.   Not  so,  my  lord. 
775.     JBru.   Naj,  I  am  sure  it  is,  Volumnius. 

Thou  seest  the  world,  Volumnius,  how  it  goes ; 
Our  enemies  have  beat  us  to  the  pit :         [Zow  alarums. 
It  is  more  worthy  to  leap  in  ourselves 
Than  tarry  till  they  push  us.     Good  Volumnius, 
Thou  know'st,  that  we  two  went  to  school  together; 
Even  for  that  our  love  of  old,  I  pr'ythee. 
Hold  thou  my  sword  hilts  whilst  I  run  on  it. 
Vol.   That's  not  an  office  for  a  friend,  my  lord. 

{^Alarum  still. 
T2^.     CU.   Fly,  fly,  my  lord ;  there  is  no  tarrying  here. 
778.     Bru.   Farewell   to  you ;  —  and  you ;  —  and  you,  Vo- 
lumnius. — 
Strato,  thou  hast  been  all  this  while  asleep ; 
Farewell  to  thee  too,  Strato.  —  Countrymen, 
My  heart  doth  joy,  that  yet  in  all  my  life 
I  found  no  man  but  he  was  true  to  me. 
I  shall  have  glory  by  this  losing  day. 
More  than  Octavius  and  Mark  Antony 
By  this  vile  conquest  shall  attain  unto. 
So,  fare  you  well  at  once  :  for  Brutus'  tongue 
Hath  almost  ended  his  life's  history. 
Night  hangs  upon  mine  eyes ;  my  bones  would  rest, 
That  have  but  laboured  to  attain  this  hour. 

{^Alarum.     Cry  -witkin,  Fly,  fly,  fly  I 
CU.   Fly,  my  lord,  fly ! 
780.     Bru.   Hence !  I  will  follow. 

[^Exeunt  Clitus,  Dardanius,  and  Volumnius. 
I  pr'ythee,  Strato,  stay  thou  by  thy  lord. 
Thou  art  a  fellow  of  a  good  respect ; 
Thy  life  hath  had  some  smatch  of  honor  in  it : 
Hold,  then,  my  sword,  and  turn  away  thy  face 
While  I  do  run  upon  it.     Wilt  thou,  Strato? 

Sira.    Give  me  your  hand  first:  fare  you  well,  my 

lord. 
Bru.   Farewell,  good  Strato.  —  Caesar,  now  be  still : 
I  killed  not  thee  with  half  so  good  a  will. 

[He  runs  on  his  sivord  and  dies. 


sc.  v.]  Julius  C^sar.  129 

p      Alarum.  —  Retreat.    Enter  Octavius,  Antony,  Messala, 
LuciLius,  and  their  Army. 
Oct.   What  man  is  that? 

Mes.  My  master's  man.  —  Strato,  where  is  thy  master? 
Stra.    Free  from  the  bondage  you  are  in,  Messala : 
The  conquerors  can  but  make  a  fire  of  him ; 
For  Brutus  only  overcame  himself, 
And  no  man  else  hath  honor  by  his  death. 
Lucil.   So  Brutus  should  be  found.  —  I  thank  thee, 
Brutus, 
That  thou  hast  proved  Lucilius'  saying  true. 

787.  Oct.   All  that  served  Brutus,  I  will  entertain  them. 
Fellow,  wilt  thou  bestow  thy  time  with  me? 

788.  Stra.   Ay,  if  Messala  will  prefer  me  to  you. 
Oct.   Do  so,  good  Messala. 

790.     Mes,    How  died  my  master,  Strato  ? 

Stra.   I  held  the  sword,  and  he  did  run  on  it. 

792.  Mes.     Octavius,  then  take  him  to  follow  thee, 
That  did  the  latest  service  to  my  master. 

793.  Ant.  This  was  the  noblest  Roman  of  them  all. 
All  the  conspirators,  save  only  he. 

Did  that  they  did  in  envy  of  great  Caesar; 
He  only,  in  a  generous  honest  thought 
JOf  common  good  to  all,  made  one  of  them. 

IHis  life  was  gentle ;  and  the  elements           "  ~ 
So  mixed  in  him,  that  Nature  might  stand  up, 
And  say  to  all  the  world.  This  -was  a  man! . 
^,^^X)ct.   According  to  his  virtue  let  us  use  him, 
"With  all  respect  and  rites  of  burial. 
Within  my  tent  his  bones  to-night  shall  lie. 
Most  like  a  soldier,  ordered  honorably.  — 
So,  call  the  field  to  rest ;  and  let's  away. 
To  part  the  glories  of  this  happy  day.  \ExeunL 


PHILOLOGICAL    COMMENTARY 


ON 


Shakespearfs  Julius  Caesar. 


ACT   I. 

Scene  I.  —  The  heading  here  in  the  original  text 
is:  —  ''''Actus  Primus.  Scoena  Prima,  Enter 
Flavius^  Murellus^  and  certaine  Commoners  over 
the  Staged  Murellus  stands  throughout  not  only 
in  all  the  Folios,  but  also  in  the  editions  of  both 
Rowe  and  Pope.  The  right  name  was  first  in- 
serted by  Theobald. 

Thi^  opening  scene  may  be  compared  with  the 
first  part  of  that  of  Coriolanus^  to  which  it  bears  a 
strong  general  resemblance. 

I.  Tou  ought  not  walk.  —  The  history  and  expla- 
nation of  this  now  disused  construction  may  be  best 
collected  from  a  valuable  paper  by  Dr.  Guest  "  On 
English  Verbs,  Substantive  and  Auxiliary,"  read 
before  the  Philological  Society,  13th  March,  1846, 
and  printed  in  their  Proceedings^  II.  223.  "  Origi- 
nally," says  Dr.  Guest,  "  the  to  was  prefixed  to  the 
gerund,  but  never  to  the  present  infinitive ;  as, 
however,  the  custom  gradually  prevailed  of  using 
the  latter  in  place  of  the  former,  the  to  was  more 
and  more  frequently  prefixed  to  the  infinitive,  till  it 

(131) 


132  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

came  to  be  considered  as  an  almost  necessary  appen- 
dage of  it.  Many  idioms,  however,  had  sunk  too 
deeply  into  the  language  to  admit  of  alteration ;  and 
other  phrases,  to  which  the  popular  ear  had  been 
familiarized,  long  resisted  the  intrusive  particle." 
The  ancient  syntax  is  still  retained  in  all  cases  with 
the  auxiliary  verbs,  as  they  are  called,  shall^  will^ 
ca?t^  may^  do^  and  also  with  must  and  let^  and  oftener 
than  not  with  bid^  dare^  have^  hear^  make^  see^  and 
perhaps  some  others.  Cause  is  frequently  so  used  ; 
and  so  is  Iielp,  sometimes,  —  as  in  Milton's  Sonnet 
to  his  friend  Lawrence  :  — 

Where  shall  we  sometimes  meet,  and  by  the  fire 
Help  waste  a  sullen  day  ? 

But,  even  since  the  language  may  be  said  to  have 
entered  upon  the  stage  of  its  existence  in  which  it 
still  is,  several  of  the  verbs  just  enumerated  as  not 
admitting  the  to  are  occasionally  found  following  the 
common  example  and  taking  it ;  and  others,  again, 
which  at  the  present  day  have  completely  conformed 
to  the  ordinary  construction,  formerly  used  now  and 
then  to  dispense  with  it.  One  of  Dr.  Guest's  quota- 
tions exemplifies  both  these  archaisms  ;  it  is  from  the 
portion  of  The  Mirror  for  Magistrates  contributed 
by  John  Higgins  in  1574  {King  Alb anact,  16)  :  — 

And,  though  we  owe  the  fall  of  Troy  requite, 
Yet  let  revenge  thereof  from  gods  to  light. 

That  is,  "  Though  we  ought  to  requite,  .  .  .  yet  let 
revenge  light,"  as  we  should  now  say.  Here  we 
have  let  with  the  to^  and  owe  (of  which  ought  or 
owed  is  the  preterite),  as  in  Shakespeare's  expression 
before  us,  without  it.  Others  of  Dr.  Guest's  citations 
from  the  same  writer  exhibit  the  auxiliaries  may^ 
will^  can,  with  the  to.  And  he  also  produces  from 
Spenser  (/^.  jg.,  iv.  7.  32), — 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  133 

Whom  when  on  ground  she  grovelling  saw  to  roll; 
and  from  Shakespeare  {Othello^  iv.  2), — 

I  durst,  ray  Lord,  to  wager  she  is  honest. 
Other  verbs  that  are  found  in  Shakespeare  some- 
times construed  in  the  saxne  manner  are  endure^ 
forbid^  znte?id^  vouchsafe ;  as,  — 

The  treason  that  my  haste  forbids  me  show. 

Rich.  II.,  V.  3. 

How  long  within  this  wood  intend  you  stay? 

Mid.  N.  Dr.,  ii.  i. 

Your  betters  have  endured  me  say  my  mind. 

Tain,  of  Skrerw,  iv.  3. 

Most  mighty  Duke,  vouchsafe  me  speak  a  word. 

Com.  of  Er.f  v.  i. 

The  verb  to  owe.^  it  may  further  be  observed,  is 
etymologically  the  *  same  with  own.  Shakespeare 
repeatedly  has  owe  w^here  own  would  be  now  em- 
ployed ;  as  in  lago's  diabolical  self-gratulation  (in 
Othello^  iii.  3)  :  — 

Not  poppy,  nor  mandragora, 
Nor  all  the  drowsy  syrops  of  the  world. 
Shall  ever  medicine  thee  to  that  sweet  sleep 
Which  thou  owedst  yesterday. 

The  Saxon  word  is  (igmi.,  —  the  ag.,  or  radical  part,  of 
which  is  evidently  the  same  with  the  ^x  of  the  Greek 
^';^fii',  signifying  to  hold,  to  possess,  to  have  for  one's 
property,  or  what  we  call  one's  own.  If  we  sup- 
pose the  a  to  have  been  pronounced  broad,  as  in  our 
modem  «//,  and  the  g  to  have  come  to  be  softened 
as ^  final  usually  is  in  modern  German,  ag  and  owe., 
unlike  as  they  are  to  the  eye,  will  be  only  different 
ways  of  spelling,  or  representing  by  letters,  almost 
the  same  vocal  utterance.  The  sound  which  the 
vowel  originally  had  is  more  nearly  preserved  in  the 
Scotch  form  of  the  word,  awe.     The  n  which  we 


134  ■         Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

have  in  the  form  own  is  either  merely  the  common 
annexation  which  the  vowel  sound  is  apt  to  seek  as 
a  support  or  rest  for  itself,  or,  probably,  in  this  case 
it  may  be  the  en  of  the  ancient  past  participle  {agen) 
or  the  an  of  the  infinitive  {aga7i).  So  we  have  both 
to  awake  and  to  awaken^  to  ope  and  to  open.  In  so 
short  a  word  as  the  one  under  consideration,  and  one 
in  such  active  service,  these  affixes  would  be  the 
more  liable  to  get  confoundec^  with  the  root.  It  may 
sound  odd  to  speak  of  a  man  as  owning  what  he 
owes;  yet,  if  we  will  think  of  it,  there  are  few  things 
that  can  rightly  be  said  to  be  more  a  man's  own  than 
his  debts ;  they  are  emphatically  proper  to  him,  or 
his  property^  clinging  to  him,  as  they  do,  like  a  part 
of  himself  Again,  that  which  a  man  owns  in  this 
sense,  or  owes.,  is  that  which  it  is  proper  for  him,  or 
which  he  has^  to  perform  or  to  discharge  (as  the 
case  may  be)  ;  hence  the  secondary  meaning  of 
ought  as  applied  to  that  which  is  one's  duty,  or 
which  is  fitting.  [See  Latham's  English  Lan- 
guage^ Fifth  Edition,  (1862),  §§  599,  605,  606,  727; 
and  Marsh,  Lectures  on  English  Language^  First 
r    Series,  pp.  320-325.] 

j^fcv^  I.   Upo7i  a  labouring  day. — Laboring  is  here  a 
1     substantive,  not  a  participle.     It  is  as  when  we  say 

^  that  we  love  laboring,  or  that  laboring  is  conducive 
to  health  of  mind  as  well  as  of  body.  It  is  not 
meant  that  the  day  labors ;  as  when  we  speak  of  a 
laboring  man,  or  a  laboring  ship,  or  a  laboring 
line  — 

(When  Ajax  strives  some  rock's  vast  w^eight  to  throw, 
The  line  too  labours,  and  the  words  move  slow). 

A  laboring  day  is  an  expression  of  the  same  kind 
with  a  walking  sticky  or  a  riding  coat;  in  which  it 
is  not  asserted  that' the  stick  walks,  or  that  the  coat 


V 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  135 

rides  ;  but,  two  substantives  being  conjoined,  the  one 
characterizes  or  qualifies  the  other,  —  performs,  in 
fact,  the  part  of  an  adjective,  — just  as  happens  in 
the  expressions  a  gold  ring^  a  leather  ap7'on,  a 
morning  call^  the  evening  bells. 

An  expression  used  by  Cowper  (in  his  verses 
composed  in  the  name  of  Alexander  Selkirk),  "the 
sound  of  the  church-going  bell,"  has  been  passion- 
ately reprobated  by  Wordsworth.  "  The  epithet 
church-goifig  applied  to  a  bell,"  observes  the  critic 
(in  an  Appendix  upon  the  subject  of  Poetic  Diction, 
first  attached,  I  believe,  in  1820  to  the  Preface  origi- 
nally published  with  the  Second  Edition  of  the  Lyri- 
cal Ballads^  1800),  "  and  that  by  so  chaste  a  writer 
as  Cowper,  is  an  instance  of  the  strange  abuses 
which  poets  have  introduced  into  their  language,  till 
they  and  their  readers  take  them  as  matters  of  course, 
if  they  do  not  single  them  out  expressly  as  matters 
of  admiration."  A  church-going  bell  is  merely  a 
bell  for  church-going;  and  the  expression  is  con- 
structed on  the  same  principle  with  a  thousand  others 
that  are  and  always  have  been  in  familiar  use ;  — 
such  as  a  marauding  expedition,  a  banking  or  a 
house-building  speculation,  a  writing  desk,  a  looking 
glass,  a  dining  room,  a  dancing  school,  a  dwelling 
house,  etc.,  etc.  What  would  Wordsworth  have 
said  to  such  a  daring  and  extreme  employment  of 
the  same  form  as  we  have  in  Shakespeare,  where  he 
makes  Cleopatra  (in  Antony  and  Cleofatra^  iii.  ii) 
say,  speaking  of  the  victorious  Caesar,  — 

From  his  all-obeying  breath  I  hear 
The  doom  of  Egypt  ? 

But  these  audacities  of  language  are  of  the  very  soul 
of  poetry. 

The  peculiar  class  of  substantives  under  consider- 


136  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

ation  cannot,  properly  speaking,  be  regarded  as  even 
present  participles  in  disguise.  Their  true  history 
has  been  given  for  the  first  time  by  Mr.  Richard 
Taylor  in  his  Additional  Notes  to  Tooke's  Diver- 
sions of  Purley^  1829  and  1840;  see  edition  of 
1840  [or  i860],  pp.  xxxix.-liv.  The  termination  of 
the  present  participle  in  Saxon  w^as  ende;  and  when 
that  part  of  the  verb  w^as  used  substantively  it  de- 
noted the  agents  or  performer  of  the  verbal  act. 
Thus,  Haeland  signified  the  Healer,  or  Saviour ; 
Scypfend^  the  Shaper,  or  Creator.  Ing  or  ung^  on 
the  other  hand,  was  the  regular  termination  of  that 
description  of  verbal  substantive  which  denoted  the 
act.  Thus  jBrennung  was  what  in  Latin  would  be 
called  Co7nhustio^  and  what  in  our  modern  English 
is  still  called  the  Burning.  In  other  tongues  of  the 
same  Gothic  stock  to  which  our  own  in  part  belongs, 
both  forms  are  still  preserved.  In  German,  for  in- 
stance, we  have  end  for  the  termination  universally 
of  the  present  participle,  and  ung  for  that  of  a  nu- 
merous class  of  verbal  substantives  all  signifying  the 
act  or  thing  done.  It  never  could  have  been  sup- 
posed that  in  that  language  these  verbal  substantives 
in  ung  were  present  participles. 

But  in  English  the  fact  is,  as  Mr.  Taylor  has 
observed,  that  it  is  not  the  verbal  substantive  de- 
noting the  act  which  has  assumed  the  form  of  the 
present  participle,  but  the  latter  which  has  thrown 
away  its  own  proper  termination  and  adopted  that 
of  the  former.  This  change  appears  to  have  com- 
menced as  early  as  the  twelfth  century,  and  to  have 
been  completely  established  by  the  fourteenth.  Even 
after  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century,  however, 
we  have  the  old  distinction  between  the  two  termina- 
tions (the  end  or  and  for  the  present  participle,  or 


sc.  I.]         •  Julius  Cjesar.  137 

the  agent,  and  the  ing  for  the  verbal  act)  still  adhered 
to  by  the  Scottish  writers. 

[One  might  infer  from  this  statement  that  the  dis- 
tinction was  uniformly  regarded  by  Scottish  writers 
of  the  sixteenth  century.  What  Mr.  Taylor  says  is 
this :  "  Though  the  use  of  ing  for  the  present  parti- 
ciple was  fully  established  in  the  fourteenth  century, 
the  age  of  Langland,  Chaucer,  and  Wiclif,  yet  the 
ancient  ande  was  still  occasionally  used,  both  being 
found  in  the  same  writers,  and  sometimes  in  the  very 
same  sentence ;  and  in  the  North,  to  the  end  of  the 
sixteenth  century." 

The  following  are  examples  of  the  two  endings 
appropriately  used  in  the  same  sentence :  — 

Hors,  or  hund,  or  othir  thing 
That  war  plesawt/  to  thar  X\\.ing. 

Barbour  (i357)- 
Full  low  inclinawf/  to  their  queen  full  clear 
Whom  for  their  noble  nourish/;/^  they  thank. 

Dunbar  {Ellis's  Spec). 

Our  sovereign  hava«^  her  majesty's  promise  be  ynxttng 
of  lufF,  friendship,  etc. 

Lord  Herries  (1568,  quoted  by  Robertson). 

The  following  are  examples  of  the  indiscriminate 
use  of  these  endings  :  — 

herdes  of  oxin  and  of  fee, 

Fat  and  tidy,  rakand  over  all  quhare, 
In  the  rank  gers  pastur/w^  on  raw. 

Garvin  Douglas. 

Changy/z^  in  sorrow  our  sang  melodious, 
Quhilk  we  had  wont  to  sing  with  good  intent 
Resoundawf/  to  the  hevinnis  firmament. 

Sir  D.  Lyndsay  (1528). 

I  may  add  that  in-  Gower  (Pauli's  ed.)  the  pre- 
vailing form  of  the  participle  is  -ende;  while  in 
Chaucer  (Wright's   ed.)   -ing  is  the   ending.     Mr. 


138  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

Taylor  says,  "  It  requires  a  long  search  in  Chaucer's 
works  to  find  a  participle  in  ande'' 

See  also  Marsh,  Led.  on  Eng.  Lang.^  First 
Series,  pp.  649-658.] 

I.  What  trade  art  thou?  —  The  rationale  of  this 
v^ode  of  expression  may  be  seen  from  the  answer  to 
the  question  :  '-'-  Why,  Sir,  a  carpenter."  The  trade 
and  the  person  practising  it  are  used  indifterently 
the  one  for  the  other:  "What  trade  art  thou?"  is 
equivalent  to  "  What  tradesman  art  thou?"  So  in 
6  we  have  —  "A  trade  .  .  .  which  is,  indeed,  a 
mender  of  bad  soles."  The  thou.,  as  here  and  in 
5,  7,  9,  II,  13,  was  still  common  in  the  English  of 
Shakespeare's  age ;  it  was  the  ordinary  form  in 
addressing  an  inferior ;  only  when  he.  was  treated, 
or  affected  to  be  treated,  as  a  gentleman,  the  me- 
chanic received  the  more  honorable  compilation  of 
you;  —  as  in  3,  "You,  Sir.,  what  trade  are  you?" 
Thou.,  Sir.,  would  have  been  incongruous  in  the 
circumstances. 

6.  Soles.  —  Quasi  souls; — an  immemorial  quib- 
ble, doubtless.  It  is  found  also  (as  Malone  notes)  in 
Fletcher's  Wo?nan  Pleased.  Yet  we  might  seem  to 
have  a  distinction  of  pronunciation  between  soul  and 
sole  indicated  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice.,  iv.  i, 
"  Not  on  thy  sole,  but  on  thy  soul,  harsh  Jew." 

7.  This  speech  in  the  old  copies  is  given  to 
JPlavius;  and  it  is  restored  to  him  by  Mr.  Knight, 
who  observes  that  the  modern  editors  "  assume 
that  only  one  of  the  tribunes  should  take  the  lead ; 
whereas  it  is  clear  that  the  dialogue  is  more  natural, 
certainly  more  dramatic,  according  to  the  original 
arrangement,  where  Flavins  and  Marullus  alter- 
nately rate  the  people,  like  two  smiths  smiting"  on 
the  same  anvil."     But  this  will  not  explain  or  ac- 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  139 

count  for  the  "  mend  me'^  of  Marullus  in  9.  That 
proves  beyond  controversy  that  the  preceding  speech 
(8)  was  addressed  to  Marullus ;  and  it  is  equally 
clear  that  the  you  of  speech  8  is  the  person  to  whom 
speech  7  belongs.  The  rating,  besides,  is  as  much 
alternate,  or  intermingled,  in  the  one  way  as  in  the 
other :  Mr.  Knight  gives  six  speeches  to  Flavins  and 
five  to  Marullus ;  the  common  arrangement  gives 
five  to  Flavins  and  six  to  Marullus.  [Collier,  Dyce, 
and  White  give  the  speech  to  Marullus ;  Hudson,  to 
Flavins.] 

8.  Be  not  out  with  ine;  yet^  if  you  be  out.  —  The 
two  senses  of  being  out  are  obvious :  ''  They  are  out 
with  one  another,"  or,  simply,  "  They  are  out ;  "  and 
"  He  is  out  at  the  elbows,"  or  in  any  other  part  of 
his  dress. 

9.  Mend  me.  —  The  answer  shows  that  mend,  not 
me,  is  the  emphatic  word. 

1 2.  But  with  awl.  —  Mr.  Knight  and  Mr.  Collier 
[and  Hudson]  print  "  with  all."  This,  apparently, 
would  accord  with  Farmer's  notion,  who  maintains 
that  the  true  reading  is,  "I  meddle  with  no  trade, 
man's  matters,"  etc.,  unTierstandmg  with  awl,  or 
with  all,  i  suppose,  to  involve,  as  one  of  its  mean- 
ings, that  of  "  with  all  trades."  The  original  read- 
ing [which  White  adopts]  is,  "  but  withal  I  am 
indeed.  Sir,  a  surgeon,"  etc.  And  the  Second  Folio 
has  "  woman's  matters." 

12.  As  proper  men.  —  A.  proper  man  is  a  man 
such  as  he  should  be.  In  The  Tempest,  ii.  2,  we 
have  the  same  expression  that  we  have  here  distrib- 
uted into  two  successive  speeches  of  the  drunken 
Stephano  :  —  "As  proper  a  man  as  ever  went  on  four 
legs ;  "  and  "  Any  emperor  that  ever  trod  on  neat's 
leather." 


140  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

[A  proper  man,  a  proper  fellow,  a  proper  gentle- 
woman, etc.,  are  very  common  expressions  in  Shake- 
speare. See  Mrs.  Clarke's  Concordance.  Compare 
Hebrews.,  xi.  23.  For  the  word  in  its  other  sense, 
one's  own,  peculiar,  see  45  and  743  ;  also,  i  Chron. 
xxix.  3  ;  Acts  i.  19  ;   i   Cor.  vii.  7.] 

15.  Wherefore  rejoice?  etc.  —  This  was  in  the 
beginning  of  B.  C.  44  (A.  U.  C.  709),  when  Caesar, 
having  returned  from  Spain  in  the  preceding  Octo- 
ber, after  defeating  the  sons  of  Pompey  at  the  Battle 
of  Munda  (fought  17th  March,  B.  C.  45),  had  been 
appointed  Consul  for  the  next  ten  years  and  Dictator 
for  life.  The  festival  of  the  Lupercalia,  at  which  he 
was  offered  and  declined  the  crown,  was  celebrated 
13th  February,  B.  C.  44;  and  he  was  assassinated 
15th  March  following,  being  in  his  fifty-sixth  year. 

15.  Many  a  time  and  oft.  —  This  old  phrase, 
which  is  still  familiar,  may  be  held  to  be  equivalent 
to  many  and  many  a  time,  that  is,  many  times  and 
yet  again  many  more  times.  The  old  pointing  of 
this  line  is,  "  Knew  you  not  Pompey  many  a  time 
and  oft?"  It  is  like  what  all  the  Folios  give  us  in 
Macbeth.,  i.  5  :  — 

Your  face,  my  thane,  is  as  a  book  where  men 
May  read  strange  matters,  to  beguile  the  time. 

What  follows,  —  "Have  you  climbed  up,"  etc., — 
is,  of  course,  made  a  second  question. 

15.  That  Tiber  trembled  underneath  her  banks, 
—  The  proper  antecedent  of  that  {so.,  or  in  such 
wise)  is  left  unexpressed,  as  sufficiently  obvious.  — 
Some  of  the  modern  editors  have  taken  the  unwar- 
rantable liberty  of  changing  her  into  his  in  this  line 
and  the  next  but  one,  because  Tiber  is  masculine  in 
Latin.  This  is  to  give  us  both  language  and  a  con- 
ception difierent  from  Shakespeare's. 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  141 

15.  Made  in  her  concave  shores.  — An  imperfect 
line  (or  hemistich,  as  it  is  commonly  called),  but 
prosodically  regular  so  far  as  it  goes,  which  is  all  we 
have  a  right  to  look  for.  The  occasional  use  of  such 
shortened  lines  would  seem  to  be,  at  least  in  dramatic 
poetry,  one  of  the  proper  and  natural  prerogatives 
of  blank  verse,  according  well,  as  it  does,  with  the 
variety  of  pause  and  cadence  which  makes  the  dis- 
tinctive charm  of  verse  of  that  form.  But,  appar- 
ently, it  need  not  be  assumed,  as  is  always  done, 
tliat  the  fragment  must  necessarily  be  in  all  cases  the 
beginning  of  a  line.  Why  should  not  the  poet  be 
supposed  sometimes,  when  he  begins  a  new  sentence 
or  paragraph  in  this  manner,  to  intend  that  it  should 
be  connected,  in  the  prosody  as  well  as  in  the  mean- 
ing, with  what  follows,  not  with  what  precedes?  A 
few  lines  lower  down,  ^x  instance,  the  words  "  Be 
gone  "  might  be  either  the  first  foot  of  the  verse  or 
the  last. 

16.  Weep  your  tears,  —  We  should  scarcely  now 
speak  of  weeping  tears  absolutely,  though  we  might 
say  "  to  weep  tears  of  blood,  or  of  agony,  or  of  bit- 
terness," or  "  to  weep  an  ocean  of  tears,  or  our  fill 
of  tears."  This  sense  of  the  verb  weep  is  quite  dis- 
tinct from  the  sense  it  commonly  has  when  used 
transitively,  which  is  to  weep  for,  or  to  lament  i,  as 
when  in  Cymbeline  (i.  5)  lachimo  speaks  of  "  those 
that  weep  this  lamentable  divorce."  It  more  resem- 
bles what  we  have  in  the  phrases  To  sin  the  sin,  To 
die  the  death.  To  sing  a  song; —  expressive  forms, 
to  which  the  genius  of  our  tongue  has  never  been 
very  prone,  and  to  which  it  is  now  decidedly  averse. 
They  owe  their  effect,  in  part,  indeed,  to  a  certain 
naturalness,  or  disregard  of  strict  propriety,  which  a 
full-grown    and   educated    language   is  apt  to  feel 


142  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

ashamed  of  as  something  rustic  or  childish.  Per- 
haps, however,  a  distinction  should  be  drawn  be- 
tween such  an  expression  as  To  weef  tears  and 
such  as  To  sin  a  sin^  To  sing  a  song^  in  which  the 
verb  is  merely  a  synonymk  for  to  act,  to  perform,  to 
execute.  [Compare  Milton's  "  tears  such  as  angels 
weep."     P.  L.  i.  620.] 

16.  Till  the  lowest  stream^  etc.  —  In  the  do  kiss 
we  have  a  common  archaism,  the  retention  of  the 
auxiliary,  now  come  to  be  regarded,  when  it  is  not 
emphatic,  as  a  pleonasm  enfeebling  the  expression, 
and  consequently  denied  alike  to  the  writer  of  prose 
and  to  the  writer  of  verse.  It  is  thus  in  even  a  worse 
predicament  than  the  separate  pronunciation  of  the 
final  ed  in  the  preterite  indicative  or  past  participle 
passive.  In  the  age  of  Shakespeare  they  were  both, 
though  beginning  to  be  abandoned,  still  part  and 
parcel  of  the  living  language,  and  instances  of  both 
are  numerous  in  the  present  Play.  The  modern 
forms  probably  were  as  yet  completely  established 
only  in  the  spoken  language,  which  commonly  goes 
before  that  which  is  written  and  read,  in  such  eco- 
nomical innovations.  —  For  the  modern  stage  direc- 
tion Exeunt  Citizens^  the  original  text  has  here 
Exeunt  all  the  Commoners. 

16.  See  whe^r  their  basest  metal.  —  Whe'r  is 
whether.  The  contraction  is  common  both  in 
Shakespeare  and  in  other  writers  of  his  age.  [So 
in  earlier  writers,  as  Chaucer  and  Gower.]  Thus 
we  have,  in  his  59th  Sonnet^  — 

Whether  we  are  mended,  or  ivhe'r  better  they,* 
Or  whether  revolution  be  the  same. 

*  [Collier  adopts  the  reading  of  the  edition  of  1609, 
"  Whether  we  are  mended,  or  where  better  they,"  meaning, 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  143 

In  the  old  copies  the  word,  when  thus  contracted,  is 
usually  printed  exactly  as  the  adverb  of  place  always 
is,  ivhere.  But  if  it  were  to  be  here  spelled  whether 
at  full  length,  and  pronounced  as  a  dissyllable,  we 
should  have  no  more  of  prosodical  irregularity  than 
we  have  in  many  other  lines.  And  it  is  occasionally 
in  similar  circumstances  so  presented  in  the  old  copies. 
l6.  Decked  with  eeremonies.  —  To  deck  (the  same 
witn  the  Latin  teg-ere  and  the  German  deck-en) 
signifies  property  no  more  than  to  cover.  Hence  the 
deck  of  a  ship.  Thatch  (the  German  Dach)  is 
another  formation  from  the  same  root.  To  deck^ 
therefore,  has  no  connection  with  to  decorate^  which 
is  of  the  same  stock  with  decent  (from  the  Latin 
decus^  or  decor ^  and  decet).  The  supposition  that 
there  was  a  connection,  however,  has  probably 
helped  to  acquire  for  deck  its  common  acceptation, 
which  now  always  involves  the  notion  of  decoratiorj 
or  adornment.  And  that  was  also  its  established 
sense  when  Shakespeare  wrote.  By  ceremonies 
must  here  be  meant  what  are  afterwards  in  18 
called  "  Caesar's  trophies,"  and  are  described  in  95 
as  ''  scarfs "  which  were  hung  on  Caesar's  images. 
No  other  instance  of  this  use  of  the  word,  however, 
is  produced  by  the  commentators.  In  our  common 
English  the  meaning  of  ceremony  has  been  extended 
so  as  to  include  also  forms  of  civility  and  outward 
forms  of  state.  We  have  it  in  that  sense  in  27.  And 
we  shall  find  lower  down  that  Shakespeare  uses  it 
in  still  another  sense,  which  is  peculiar  to  himself, 
or  which  has  now  at  least  gone  out.  [White  gives 
''ceremony"  here.]     See  194. 

as  he  thinks,  "  in  what  respects  they  are  better."     All  the 
other  editors,  I  believe,  give  w^eV,  or  'whtr.'\ 


144  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

17.  The  feast  of  Lufercal. — The  Roman  festi- 
val of  the  Lufercalia  {-ium  or  -iorum)  was  in 
honor  of  the  old  Italian  god  Lupercus,  who  came  to 
be  identified  with  Pan.  It  was  celebrated  annually 
on  the  Ides  (or  13th)  of  February.  A  third  com- 
pany of  Luferci^  or  priests  of  Pan,  with  Antony 
for  its  chief,  was  instituted  in  honor  of  Julius 
Caesar. 

18.  Will  make  him  Jly.  —  A  modern  sentence 
constructed  in  this  fashion  would  constitute  the  him 
the  antecedent  to  the  who^  and  give  it  the  meaning 
of  the  person  generally  who  (in  this  instance)  else 
would  soar,  etc.,  or  whoever  would.  But  it  will  be 
more  accordant  with  the  style  of  Shakespeare's  day 
to  leave  the  him,  unemphatic,  and  to  regard  Ccesar 
as  being  the  antecedent  to  who.  It  was  not  then  so 
unusual,  or  accounted  so  inelegant,  as  it  would  now 
be,  in  our  more  precise  and  straitened  syntax,  thus 
to  separate  the  relative  from  its  true  antecedent  by 
the  interposition  of  another  false  or  apparent  one,  or 
to  tack  on  the  relative  clause  to  the  completed  state- 
ment as  if  it  had  been  an  afterthought.  Thus,  again 
in  the  present  Play,  we  have,  in  703,  — 

Coming  from  Sardis,  on  our  former  ensign 
Two  mighty  eagles  fell,  and  there  they  perched, 
Gorging  and  feeding  from  our  soldiers'  hands ; 
Who  to  Philippi  here  consorted  us ; 

and  in  715, — 

O  Cassius,  Brutus  gave  the  word  too  early ; 
Who,  having  some  advantage  on  Octavius, 
Took  it  too  eagerly. 

Scene  II.  — .The  original  heading  here  is  :  — 
''''Enter  Ccesar^  Antony  for  the  Course^  Calphurnia^ 
Portia^  Decius^  Cicero^  Brutus^  Cassius^  Caska,  a 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  145 

Soothsayer :  after  tJiem  Murellus  and  Flavins'^ 
The  three  stage  directions  about  the  Music  are  all 
modern. 

23.  Stand  you  directly^  etc.  —  The  sacerdotal 
runners  wore  only  a  cincture  of  goatskins,  the  same 
material  of  which  their  thongs  were  made.  The 
passage  in  Plutarch's  Life  of  Julius  Caesar  as  trans- 
lated by  Sir  Thomas  North  is  as  follows  :  — 

At  that  time  the  feast  Lupercalia  was  celebrated,  the 
which  in  old  time,  men  say,  was  the  feast  of  Shepherds  or 
Herdsmen,  and  is  much  like  unto  the  feast  of  Ljceians 
\^Avxiia\  in  Arcadia.  But,  howsoever  it  is,  that  day  there  are 
divers  noblemen's  sons,  young  men  (and  some  of  them  ma- 
gistrates themselves  that  govern  them),  which  run  naked 
through  the  city,  striking  in  sport  them  they  meet  in  their 
way  with  leather  thongs.  And  many  noble  women  and 
gentlewomen  also  go  of  purpose  to  stand  in  their  way,  and 
do  put  forth  their  hands  to  be  stricken,  persuading  them- 
selves that,  being  with  child,  they  shall  have  good  delivery, 
and  also,  being  barren,  that  it  will  make  them  conceive  with 
child.  Caesar  sat  to  behold  that  sport  upon  the  pulpit  for 
orations,  in  a  chair  of  gold,  apparelled  in  triumphant  man- 
ner. Antonius,  who  was  Consul  at  that  time,  was  one  of 
them  that  ronne  this  holy  course. 

Here,  and  in  25,  as  generally  throughout  the  Play, 
Antonius  is  Antonio  in  the  original  text,  and  in  all 
the  editions  down  to  that  of  Pope. 

32.  The  Ides  of  March. — In  the  Roman  Kalen- 
dar  the  Ides  {Idiis)  fell  on  the  15th  of  March,  May, 
July,  and  October,  and  on  the  13th  of  the  eight 
remaining    months. 

34.  A  soothsayer^  bids.  —  That  is.  It  is  a  sooth- 
sayer, who  bids.  It  would  not  otherwise  be  an 
answer  to  Caesar's  question.  The  omission  of  the 
relative  in  such  a  construction  is  still  common. 
[All  the  editors  omit  the  comma  here.] 

39.  The  old  stage  direction  here  is — ^^  Sennet* 
10 


146  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

Exeunt.  Manet  Brut,  et  Cass.^^  The  word 
Sennet  is  also  variously  written  Sennit^  Senet, 
Syn7tet^  Cynet^  Signet^  and  Signate.  Nares  ex- 
plains it  as  "  a  word  chiefly  occurring  in  the  stage 
directions  of  the  old  plays,  and  seeming  to  indicate 
a  particular  set  of  notes  on  the  trumpet,  or  cornet, 
different  from  a  flourish."  In  Shakespeare  it  occurs 
again  in  the  present  Play  at  67,  in  the  heading  to 
Antony  and  Cleopatra.,  ii.  7?  in  Henry  VIII..,  ii.  4, 
and  in  Coriolanus.,  i.  i  and  2,  where  in  the  first 
scene  we  have  "A  Sennet.  Trumpets  sound."  In 
the  heading  of  the  second  scene  of  the  fifth  act  of 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Knight  of  Malta  we  have 
"  Synnet.,  i.  e.  Flourish  of  Xrumpets.^'  But  in 
Dekker's  Sat  iromastix  {1602)  we  have  "Trumpets 
sound  a  flourish,  and  then  a  sennet."  Steevens 
says,  "  I  have  been  informed  that  sennet  is  derived 
from  senneste^  an  antiquated  French  tune  formerly 
used  in  the  army  ;  but  the  Dictionaries  which  I  have 
consulted  exhibit  no  such  word." 

44.  That  gentleness  .  .  .  as  I  was.,  etc.  —  We 
should  now  say  "  that  gentleness  that  I  was  wont  to 
have."  It  is  not  very  long  since  the  conjunction  as  was 
used  at  least  in  one  case  in  which  we  now  always  em- 
ploy//^iz/f.  ^''So  —  as^^  says  Bishop  Lowth  {Introd. 
to  Eng.  Gram.).,  "was  used  by  the  writers  of  the 
last  (17th)  century  to  express  a  consequence,  in- 
stead of  so  —  that.  Swift  [who  died  1745],  I  believe, 
is  the  last  of  our  good  writers  who  has  frequently 
used  this  manner  of  expression." 

44.  Over  your  friend  that  loves  you.  —  It  is 
friends  in  the  Second  Folio. 

45.  Merely  upon  myself.  —  Merely  (from  the 
Latin  merus  and  mere)  means  purely,  only.  It 
separates  that  which  it  designates  or  qualifies  from 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C-^sar.  147 

everything  else.  But  in  so  doing  the  chief  or  most 
emphatic  reference  may  be  made  either  to  that  which 
is  included,  or  to  that  which  is  excluded.  In  modem 
English  it  is  always  to  the  latter ;  by  "  merely  upon 
myself"  we  should  now  mean  upon  nothing  else 
except  myself;  the  nothing  else  is  that  which  the 
merely  makes  prominent.  In  Shakespeare's  day  the 
other  reference  was  the  more  common,  that  namely 
to  what  was  included  ;  and  "  merely  upon  myself" 
meant  upon  myself  altogether,  or  without  regard  to 
anything  else.  Myself  was  that  which  the  merely 
made  prominent.  So  when  Hamlet,  speaking  of  the 
world,  says  (i.  2),  "  Things  rank  and  gross  in  nature 
possess  it  merely ^^  he  by  the  merely  brings  the  pos- 
session before  the  mind,  and  characterizes  it  as  com- 
plete and  absolute ;  but  by  the  same  term  now  the 
prominence  would  be  given  to  something  else  from 
which  the  possession  might  be  conceived  to  be 
separable;  "possess  it  merely"  would  mean  have 
nothing  beyond  simply  the  possession  of  it  (have,  it 
might  be,  no  right  to  it,  or  no  enjoyment  of  it).  It 
is  not  necessary  that  that  which  is  included,  though 
thus  emphasized,  should  therefore  be  more  definitely 
conceived  than  that  with  which  it  is  contrasted.  So, 
again,  when  in  Henry  VIII, ^  iii.  2,  the  Earl  of 
Surrey  charges  Wolsey  with  having  sent  large  sup- 
plies of  substance  to  Rome  "  to  the  mere  undoing 
of  all  the  kingdom,"  he  means  to  the  complete 
undoing  of  all  the  kingdom,  to  nothing  less  than 
such  undoing  ;  but  in  our  modern  English  the  words 
would  sound  as  if  the  speaker's  meaning  were,  to 
nothing  more  than  the  undoing  of  tHe  kingdom. 
The  m,ere  would  lead  us  to  think  of  something  else, 
some  possible  aggravation  of  the  undoing  (such,  for 


148  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

instance,  as  the  disgrace  or  infamy),  from  which 
that  was  to  be  conceived  as  separated. 

The  use  of  merely  here  is  in  exact  accordance 
with  that  of  mere  in  Othello^  ii.  2,  where  the  Herald 
proclaims  the  tidings  of  what  he  calls  "  the  mere 
perdition  of  the  Turkish  fleet "  (that  is,  the  entire 
perdition  or  destruction).  In  Helena's  "  Ay,  surely, 
mere  the  truth,"  in  AWs  Well  that  Ends  Well^  iii. 
5,  m,ere  would  seem  to  ha.ve  the  sense  of  m.erely 
(that  is,  simply,  exactly),  if  there  be  no  misprint. 

Attention  to  such  changes  of  import  or  effect, 
slight  as  they  may  seem,  which  many  words  have 
undergone,  is  indispensable  for  the  correct  under- 
standing of  our  old  writers.  Their  ignorance  of  the 
old  sense  of  this  same  word  fnerely  has  obscured  a 
passage  in  Bacon  to  his  modern  editors.  In  his  58th 
Essay^  entitled  "  Of  Vicissitudes  of  Things,"  he 
says,  "As  for  conflagrations  and  great  droughts, 
they  do  not  merely  dispeople  and  destroy  "  —  mean- 
ing, as  the  train  of  the  reasoning  clearly  requires, 
that  they  do  not  altogether  do  so.  Most  of  the  edi- 
tors (Mr.  Montague  included)  have  changed  "  and 
destroy "  into  "  but  destroy ;  "  others  leave  out  the 
"  not "  before  merely;  either  change  being  subver- 
sive of  the  meaning  of  the  passage  and  inconsistent 
with  the  context.  [Spedding  and  Ellis's  edition  has 
and;  Whately's,  but^^  The  reading  of  the  old 
copies  is  confirmed  by  the  Latin  translation,  done 
under  Bacon's  own  superintendence :  "  Illae  popu- 
lum  penitus  non  absorbent  aut  destruunt." 

So  in  the  3d  Essay ^  "  Of  Unity  in  Religion," 
when  we  are  told  that  extremes  would  be  avoided 
"  if  the  points  fundamental  and  of  substance  in  re- 
ligion were  truly  discerned  and  distinguished  from 
points  not  merely  of  faith,  but  of  opinion,  order,  or 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C-^sar.  149 

good  intention,"  the  meaning  is,  from  points  not 
altogether  of  faith,  —  not,  were  distinguished  not 
only  from  points  of  faith,  as  a  modern  reader  would 
be  apt  to  understand  it. 

45.  Passions  of  some  diffei'cnce.  —  The  meaning 
seems  to  be,  of  some  discordance,  somewhat  con- 
flicting passions.  So  we  have,  a  few  lines  after, 
"poor  Brutus,  with  himself  at  war." 
.  45 .  Conceptions  only  proper  to  myself. — Thoughts 
and  feelings  relating  exclusively  to  myself.    [See  12.] 

45.  To  my  behaviours.  —  We  have  lost  this  plural. 
But  we  still  say,  though  with  some  difference  of 
meaning,  both  "  My  manner  "  and  "  My  manners." 

45.  Be  you  one.  —  There  are  various  kinds  of 
beings  or  of  existing.  What  is  here  meant  is.  Be 
in  your  belief  and  assurance ;  equivalent  to.  Rest 
assured  that  you  are. 

45.  Nor  construe  any  further  my  neglect.  —  P'ur- 
ther  is  the  word  in  the  old  copies  ;  but  Mr.  Collier, 
I  observe,  in  his  one  volume  edition  prints  farther, 
[Dyce  and  Hudson,  further ;  White,  as  elsewhere, 
farther.']  It  is  sometimes  supposed  that,  ^s  farther 
answers  to  far^  so  further  answers  to  forth.  But 
far  and  forth^  or  fore^  are  really  only  different 
forms  of  the  same  word,  diflerent  corruptions  or 
modernizations  of  the  Saxon  feor  or  forth.  [^Par, 
both  adjective  and  adverb,  is  from  the  Saxon  feor. 
Further  is  from  furthre^  furthor^  comparative  of 
forth^  firth.  Farther  is  a  .modern  variation  of 
further.,  suggested  of  course  hy  far ^  and  is  the  form 
preferred  by  many  writers  to  express  distance.  See 
Graham,  English  Synonymes  (Amer.  ed.),  and  note 
the  illustrative  passages  under  these  words.] 

46.  /  have  much  mistook  your  passio7z.  —  That 
is,  the  feeling  under  which  you  are  suflering.     Pa- 


150  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

tience  and  passion  (both  from  the  Latin  fatior) 
equally  mean  suffering ;  the  notions  of  quiet  and  of 
agitation  which  they  have  severally  acquired,  and 
which  have  made  the  common  signification  of  the 
one  almost  the  opposite  of  that  of  the  other,  are 
merely  accidental  adjuncts.  It  may  be  seen,  how- 
ever, from  the  use  of  the  word  passion  here  and  in 
the  preceding  speech,  that  its  proper  meaning  was 
not  so  completely  obscured  and  lost  sight  of  in 
Shakespeare's  day  as  it  has  come  to  be  in  ours, 
when  it  retains  the  notion  of  suffering  only  in  two 
or  three  antique  expressions  ;  such  as,  the  iliac  pas- 
sion^ and  the  passion  of  our  Saviour  (with  Passion 
Week).  —  Though  it  is  no  longer  accounted  correct 
to  say,  I  have  mistook^  or  I  have  wrote^  such  forms 
were  in  common  use  even  till  far  on  in  the  last  cen- 
tury. Nor  has  the  analogy  of  the  reformed  manner 
of  expression  been  yet  completely  carried  out.  In 
some  cases  we  have  even  lost  the  more  correct  form 
after  having  once  had  it :  we  no  longer,  for  instance, 
say,  I  have  stricken^  as  they  did  in  Shakespeare's 
day,  but  only,  I  have  struck. 

47.  But  by  re/lection,  etc.  —  The  "  other  things  " 
must,  apparently,  if  we  interpret  the  words  with 
reference  to  their  connection,  be  the  reflectors  or 
mirrors  spoken  of  by  Cassius.  Taken  by  itself, 
however,  the  expression  might  rather  seem  to  mean 
that  the  eye  discovers  its  own  existence  by  its  power 
of  seeing  other  things.  The  verse  in  the  present 
speech  is  thus  ingeniously  broken  up  in  the  original 

edition :  — 

No   Cassius : 
For  the  eye  sees  not  it  selfe  but  by  reflection, 
Bj  some  other  things. 

It  may  still  be  suspected  that  all  is  not  quite  right, 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  151 

and  possibly  some  words  have  dropped  out.  "  By 
reflection,  by  some  other  things,"  is  hardly  Shake- 
speare's style.  It  is  not  customary  with  him  to  em- 
ploy a  word  which  he  finds  it  necessary  thus  to 
attempt  immediately  to  amend,  or  supplement,  or 
explain,  by  another.  —  It  is  remarkable  that  in  the 
first  line  of  this  speech  the  three  last  Folios  turn  the 
itself  into  himself.     [White  reads  "  thing."] 

There  is  a  remarkable  coincidence,  both  of  thought 
and  of  expression,  between  what  we  have  here  and 
the  following  passage  in  Troilus  a?id  Cressida^  iii. 

Nor  doth  the  eye  itself, 
That  most  pure  spirit  of  sense,  behold  itself. 

And  it  may  be  worth  noting  that  these  lines  appear 
only  in  the  two  original  Quarto  editions  of  the  Play 
(1609),  and  are  not  in  any  of  the  Folios. 

48.  Ma?iy  of  the  best  respect.  —  A  lost  phrase,  no 
longer  permissible  even  in  poetry,  although  our  only 
modern  equivalent  is  the  utterly  unpoetical  "  many 
persons  of  the  highest  respectability,"  So,  again,  in 
the  present  Play,  we  have  in  779,  "  Thou  art  a  fellow 
of  a  good  respect." 

50.  Therefore^  good  Brutus^  etc.  —  The  eager, 
impatient  temper  of  Cassius,  absorbed  in  his  own 
one  idea,  is  vividly  expressed  by  his  thus  continuing 
his  argument  as  if  without  appearing  to  have  even 
heard  Brutus's  interrupting  question  ;  for  such  is  the 
only  interpretation  which  his  therefore  would  seem 
to  admit  of. 

50.  Aitd  be  not  jealous  on  me.  —  This  is  the  read- 
ing of  all  the  Folios  ;  and  it  has  been  restored  to  the 
text  by  Mr.  Knight,  who  does  not,  however,  produce 
any  other  example  of  the  same  syntax.  The  other 
modern  editors  generally,  with  the  exception  of  Mr. 


152  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

Collier,  have  changed  the  on  into  of.  [Dyce,  Hud- 
son, and  White  have  on^  And  eveiywhere  else,  I 
believe,  Shakespeare  writes  jealous  of.  But  there 
seems  to  be  no  natural  reason,  independently  of  usage, 
why  the  adjective  might  not  take  the  one  preposition 
as  well  as  the  other.  They  used  to  say  enamoured 
on  formerly.  In  the  same  manner,  although  the 
common  form  is  to  eat  of  yet  in  Macbeth^  i.  3,  we 
have,  as  the  words  stand  in  the  first  three  Folios, 
"  Have  we  eaten  on  the  insane  root."  So,  although 
we  commonly  say  "  seized  <?/?"  we  have  in  Hamlet., 
i.  I,  "  All  those  his  lands  Which  he  stood  seized  d?«." 
And  there  is  the  familiar  use  of  on  for  of  in  the 
popular  speech,  of  which  we  have  also  an  example 
in  Hamlet  in  the  Clown's  "You  lie  out  on't.  Sir" 
(v.  i).  [Instances  of  on  where  we  should  use  of 
are  very  numerous  in  Shakespeare ;  as  in  the  Tern- 
pest,  i.  2  :  — 

The  ivy  which  had  hid  my  princely  trunk, 
And  sucked  my  verdure  out  on^t. 

You  taught  me  language ;  and  my  profit  <?»'/ 
Is,  I  knovsr  how  to  curse. 

and  hast  put  thyself 

Upon  this  island  as  a  spy,  to  win  it 
From  me,  the  lord  on't. 

So  also  in  Macbeth,  iii.  i  :  — 

Acquaint  you  with  the  perfect  spy  o'  the  time, 
The  moment  oti't. 

And  v.  I  :  — 

Banquo's  buried ;  he  cannot  come  out  on's  grave. 

Compare  i  Sam.  xxvii.  11.] 

50.  Were  I  a  common  laugher.  —  Pope  made  this 
correction,  in  which  he  has  been  followed  by  all  sub- 
sequent editors.     In  all  the  editions  before  his  the 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  153 

reading  is  laughter ;  and  the  necessity  or  propriety 
of  the  change  is  perhaps  not  so  unquestionable  as  it 
has  been  generally  thought.  Neither  word  seems  to 
be  perfectly  satisfactory.  '•  Were  I  a  common 
laughter  "  might  seem  to  derive  some  support  from 
the  expression  of  the  same  speaker  in  561  :  "  Hath 
Cassius  lived  to  be  but  mirth  and  laughter  to  his 
Biutus?" 

50.  To  stale  with  ordinary  oaths  my  love.  — John- 
son, the  only  commentator  who  notices  this  expres- 
sion, interprets  it  as  meaning,  "  to  invite  every  new 
protester  to  my  affection  by  the  stale,  or  allurement, 
of  customary  oaths."  But  surely  the  more  common 
sense  of  the  word  stale^  both  the  verb  and  the  noun, 
involving  the  notion  of  insipid  or  of  little  worth  or 
estimation,  is  far  more  natural  here.  Who  forgets 
Enobarbus's  phrase  in  his  enthusiastic  description 
of  Cleopatra  {^Antony  and  Cleopatra^  ii.  3),  "Age 
cannot  wither  her,  nor  custom  stale  Her  infinite 
variety "  ?  So  in  497,  "  Staled  by  other  men." 
[White  follows  Johnson.  Hudson  has  anticipated 
Craik  in  the  explanation  here  given.] 

50.  And  after  scandal  them.  —  We  have  lost  the 
Verb  scandal  altogether,  and  we   scarcely  use  the 

other  form,  to  scandalize.^  except  in  the  sense  of  the 
Hellenistic  tfxav(5aXj^w,  to  shock,  to  give  offence. 
Both  had  formerly  also  the  sense  of  to  defame  or 
traduce. 

51.  What  means  this  shouting?  etc.  —  Here  is 
the  manner  in  which  this  passage  is  given  in  the 
original  edition :  — 

Bru,  What  means  this  Showting? 
I  do  feare,  the  People  choose  CcBsar 
For  their  King. 

Cassi.  I,  do  you  feare  it? 


Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

53.  If  it  be  aught  toward.  —  All  that  the  prosody 
demands  here  is  that  the  word  toward  he  pronounced 
in  two  syllables ;  the  accent  may  be  either  on  the 
first  or  the  second.  Toward  when  an  adjective  has, 
I  believe,  always  the  accent  on  the  first  syllable  in 
Shakespeare ;  but  its  customary  pronunciation  may 
have  been,  otherwise  in  his  day  when  it  was  a  prepo- 
sition, as  it  is  here.  Milton,  however,  in  the  few 
cases  in  which  he  does  not  run  the  two  syllables 
into  one,  always  accents  the  first.  And  he  uses  both 
toward  and  towards. 

53.  Set  Honor  in  one  eye.,  etc.  —  This  passage 
has  occasioned  some  discussion.  Johnson's  expla- 
nation is,  "  When  Brutus  first  names  Honour  and 
Death,  he  calmly  declares  them  indifferent ;  but,  as 
the  image  kindles  in  his  mind,  he  sets  Honour  above 
life."  [Coleridge  says,  "  Warburton  would  read 
death  for  both;  but  I  prefer  the  old  text.  There  are 
here  three  things  —  the  public  good,  the  individual 
Brutus'  honour,  and  his  death.  The  latter  two  so 
balanced  each  other,  that  he  could  decide  for  the 
first  by  equipoise  ;  nay,  —  the  thought  growing,  — 
that  honour  had  more  weight  than  death.  That 
Cassius  understood  it  as  Warburton,  is  the  beauty' 
of  Cassius  as  contrasted  with  Brutus."]  It  does  not 
seem  to  be  necessary  to  suppose  any  such  change  or 
growth  either  of  the  image  or  the  sentiment.  What 
Brutus  means  by  saying  that  he  will  look  upon 
Honor  and  Death  indifferently,  if  they  present 
themselves  together,  is  merely  that,  for  the  sake  of 
the  honor,  he  will  not  mind  the  death,  or  the  risk 
of  death,  by  which  it  may  be  accompanied ;  he  will 
look  as  fearlessly  and  steadily  upon  the  one  as  upon 
the  other.  He  will  think  the  honor  to  be  cheaply 
purchased  even  by  the  loss  of  life ;  that  price  will 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  155 

never  make  him  falter  or  hesitate  in  clutching  at 
such  a  prize.  He  must  be  understood  to  set  honor 
above  life  from  the  first ;  that  he  should  ever  have 
felt  otherwise  for  a  moment  would  have  been  the 
height  of  the  unheroic.  —  The  convenient  elisions 
i'  the  and  o'  the  have  been  almost  lost  to  our  modern 
English  verse,  at  least  in  composition  of  the  ordinary- 
regularity  and  dignity.  Byron,  however,  has  in  a 
well-known  passage  ventured  upon  "  Hived  in  our 
bosoms  like  the  bag  o'  the  bee."  [Compare  Tennyson 
(^Mariana)  :  "  The  blue  fly  sung  i'  the  pane."] 

54.  Tour  outward  favour.  —  A  man's  favor  is 
his  aspect  or  appearance.  "  In  beauty,"  says  Bacon, 
in  his  43d  Essay^  "  that  of  favour  is  more  than  that 
of  colour ;  and  that  of  decent  and  gracious  motion 
more  than  that  of  favour."  [Compare  Proverbs^ 
xxxi.  30.]  The  word  is  now  lost  to  us  in  that  sense  ; 
but  we  still  use  favored  with  ivell^  ill^  and  perhaps 
other  qualifying  terms,  for  featured  or  looking  ;  as  in 
Gen.  xli.  4,  "  The  ill-favoured  and  lean-fleshed 
kine  did  eat  up  the  seven  well-favoured  and  fat  kine." 
Favor  seems  to  be  used  iox  face  from  the  same  con- 
fusion or  natural  transference  of  meaning  between 
the  expressions  for  the  feeling  in  the  mind  and  the 
outward  indication  of  it  in  the  look  that  has  led  to 
the  word  counte7iance^  which  commonly  denotes  the 
latter,  being  sometimes  employed,  by  a  process  the 
reverse  of  what  we  have  in  the  case  oi  favor.,  in  the 
sense  of  at  least  one  modification  of  the  former ;  as 
when  we  speak  of  any  one  giving  something  his 
countenance.,  or  countenancing  it.  In  this  case, 
however,  it  ought  to  be  observed  that  countenance 
has  the  meaning,  not  simply  of  favorable  feeling  or 
approbation,  but  of  its  expression  or  avowal.  The 
French  terms  from  which  we  have  borrowed  our 


156  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

J^avor  and  countenance  do  not  appear  to  have  either 
of  them  undergone  the  transference  of  meaning 
which  has  befallen  the  English  forms.  But  con- 
tenance^  which  is  still  also  used  by  the  French  in 
the  sense  of  material  capacity,  has  drifted  far  away 
from  its  original  import  in  coming  to  signify  one's 
aspect  or  physiognomy.  It  is  really  also  the  same 
word  with  the  French  and  English  continence  and 
the  Latin  continentia. 

54.  For  my  single  self.  —  Here  is  a  case  in  which 
we  are  still  obliged  to  adhere  to  the  old  way  of 
writing  and  printing  my  self.     See  56. 

54.  /  had  as  lief.  —  Lief  (sometimes  written  leef 
or  leve).,  in  the  comparative  liefer  or  lever ^  in  the 
superlative  liefest^  is  the  Saxon  leof  of  the  same 
meaning  with  our  modern  dear.  The  common 
modern  substitute  for  lief  is  soon^  and  for  liefer., 
sooner  or  rather.,  which  last  is  properly  the  com- 
parative of  rath.,  or  rathe.,  signifying  early,  not 
found  in  Shakespeare,  but  used  in  one  expression  — 
''  the  rathe  primrose  "  {Lycidas,  142)  —  by  Milton, 
who  altogether  ignores  lief.  Lief  liefer.,  and  lief- 
est., are  all  common  in  Spenser.  Shakespeare  has 
lief  pr^ty  frequently,  but  never  liefer;  and  liefest 
occurs  only  in  the  Second  Part  of  King  Henry  VL., 
where,  in  iii.  i,  we  have  "  My  liefest  liege."  In 
the  same  Play,  too  (i.  i),  we  have  "Mine  alderlief 
est  sovereign,"  meaning  dearest  of  all.  "  This  beau- 
tiful word,"  says  Mr.  Knight,  "  is  a  Saxon  compound. 
Alder,  of  all,  is  thus  frequently  joined  with  an 
adjective  of  the  superlative  degree,  —  as  alderfrst, 
alder  last."  But  it  cannot  be  meant  that  such  combi- 
nations are  frequent  in  the  English  of  Shakespeare's 
day.  They  do  occur,  indeed,  in  a  preceding  stage 
of  the  language.     Alder  is  a  corrupted  or  at  least 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  157 

modified  form  of  the  Saxon  genitive  plural  aller^  or 
alh'e;  it  is  that  strengthened  by  the  interposition  of 
a  supporting  d  (a  common  expedient).  Aller^  with 
the  same  signification,  is  still  familiar  in  German 
compounds.  —  The  eflect  and  construction  of  lief  in 
Middle  English  may  be  seen  in  the  following  exam- 
ples from  Chaucer :  "  For  him  was  lever  han  at 
his  beddes  head  "  (C  T.  Pro,  295),  that  is,  To  him 
it  was  dearer  to  have  {lever  a  monosyllable,  beddes 
a.  dissyllable)  ;  "  Ne,  though  I  say  it,  I  n'  am  not  lefe 
to  gabbe  "  (C  T.  3510),  that  is,  I  am  not  given  to 
prate ;  "  I  hadde  lever  dien,"  that  is,  I  should  hold 
it  preferable  to  die.  And  Chaucer  has  also  "  Al  be 
him  loth  or  lefe"  (C  T,  1839),  that  is,  Whether  it 
be  to  him  agreeable  or  disagreeable ;  and  '^  For  lefe 
ne  loth  "  (C.  T.  13062),  that  is,  For  love  nor  loath- 
ing. —  We  may  remark  the  evidently  intended  con- 
nection in  sound  between  the  lief  and  the  live,  or 
rather  the  attraction  by  which  the  one  word  has 
naturally  produced  or  evoked  the  other.  \_Had  lever 
is  rightly  explained  here,  but  had  rather  (see  57)  is 
a  very  different  phrase ;  probably  an  expansion  of 
rd  rather.  Had  came  to  be  regarded  as  a  sort  of 
auxiliary  for  such  phrases.  Had  rather  and  had 
better  have  the  sanction  of  good  English  usage, 
though  many  of  the  writers  of  grammars  tell  us  that 
we  should  say  would  rather,  etc.,  instead.  The 
latter  makes  sense,  of  course,  but  the  more  idiomatic 
expression  is  not  to  be  condemned.  See  on  468.  — 
Tennyson  uses  rathe:  "  The  men  of  rathe  and  riper 
years."  The  following  are  examples  of  rather  in 
the  sense  of  earlier,  sooner  :  — 
Wolde  God  this  relyke  had  come  rather  I  Heywood. 

And  it  arose  ester  and  ester,  till  it  arose  full  este ;  and 
rather  and  rather.  Warkworth. 


158  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

Sejnt  Edward  the  Martyr  was  his  sone 
By  his  rathere  wjf  (i.  e.  his  former  wife). 

Robt.  of  Gloucester. 

he  sholde 

Han  lost  his  regne  rather  than  he  wolde. 

Chaucer^  C.  T.  10176. 
The  rather  lambes  bene  starved  with  cold. . 

Spenser,  Shep.  Cal.  Feb.  83. 

The  superlative  rathest  is  found  in  Chaucer, 
Compl,  of  BL  Kt.  428  :  — 

Accept  be  now  rathest  unto  grace.] 
54.  [  The  troubled  Tiber  chafing.  —  Chafe  is  from 
the  Latin  calefacere.,  through  the  French  echauffer 
and  chauffer.  The  steps  by  which  the  word  has 
acquired  its  modern  meaning  seem  to  be,  first,  to 
warm  ;  then,  to  warm  by  rubbing ;  and  finally,  to 
rub  generally,  in  either  a  literal  or  a  figurative  sense. 
See  2  Sam.  xvii.  8.  See  also  The  Taming  of  the 
Shrew.)  i.  2  :  — 

Have  I  not  heard  the  sea  puffed  up  with  winds 

Rage  like  an  angry  boar  chafed  with  sweat.? 

Fain  would  I  go  chafe  his  paly  lips 

With  twenty  thousand  kisses.  2  Henry  VI.  iii.  2. 

What,  are  you  chafed .? 
Ask  God  for  temperance;  —  Henry  VIII.  i.  i. 

Do  not  chafe  thee,  cousin ; 
And  you,  Achilles,  let  these  threats  alone. 

Troil.  and  Cress,  iv.  5. 

For  other  examples  illustrating  Shakespeare's  use 
of  the  word,  see  Mrs.  Clarke's  Concordance.'] 

54.  Ccesar  said  to  me.,  etc.  —  In  the  Second  Folio 
it  is  '*  Caesar  sales  to  me."  And  three  lines  lower 
down  it  is  there  "  Accounted  as  I  was."  Other 
errors  of  that  copy  in  the  same  speech  are  "  chasing 
with  her  shores,"  and  "  He  had  a  Feaher  when  he 
was  in  Spaine." 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  159 

54.  [  With  lusty  sinews.  —  Lusty ^  vigorous,  full  of 
energy,  is  "  derived  from  the  Saxon  lust  in  its  pri- 
mary sense  of  eager  desire,  or  intense  longing,  indi- 
cating a  corresponding  intensity  of  bodily  vigor." 
See  Judges  iii.  29.  —  The  Scotch  lusty  had  the  sense 
of  beautiful,  handsome.  Gawin  Douglas  translates 
Virgil's  "  Sunt  mihi  bis  septem  praestanti  corpore 
nymphae"  (u^n.  i.  71)  by  "  I  have,  quod  sche,  lusty 
ladyis  fourtene."] 

54.  Arrive  the  point  proposed,  —  Arrive  without 
the  now  indispensable  at  or  in  is  found  also  in  the 
Third  Part  of  King  Henry  VI.  (v.  3)  :  — 

Those  powers  that  the  queen 
Hath  raised  in  Gallia  have  arrived  our  coast. 

And  Milton  has  the  same  construction  {P.  L.  ii. 

Ere  he  arrive 
The  happy  isle. 

54.  /,  as  ./Eneas.,  etc.  —  This  commencement  of 
the  sentence,  although  necessitating  the  not  strictly 
grammatical  repetition  of  the  first  personal  pronoun, 
is  in  fine  rhetorical  accordance  with  the  character  of 
the  speaker,  and  vividly  expresses  his  eagerness  to 
give  prominence  to  his  own  part  in  the  adventure. 
Even  the  repetition  (of  which,  by  the  by,  we  have 
another  instance  in  this  same  speech)  assists  the 
effect.  At  the  same  time,  it  may  just  be  noted  that 
the  /  here  is  not  printed  difterently  in  the  origi- 
nal edition  from  the  adverb  of  affirmation  in  "-4y» 
and  that  tongue  of  his,"  a  few  lines  lower  down. 
Nor  are  the  two  words  anywhere  distinguished.  It 
may  be  doubted  whether  Macbeth's  great  exclama- 
tion (ii.  3)  should  not  be  printed  (as  it  is  by  Steevens) 
^'  Wake  Duncan  with  thy  knocking  :  Ay,  would  thou 
couldst ! "  (instead  of  "  I  would,"  as  usually  given). 


i6o  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

54.  The  old  Anchises^  etc.  —  This  is  a  line  of  six 
feet ;  but  it  is  quite  different  in  its  musical  character 
from  what -is  called  an  Alexandrine,  such  as  rounds 
off  the  Spenserian  stanza,  and  also  frequently  makes 
the  second  line  in  a  rhymed  couplet  or  the  third  in  a 
triplet.  It  might  perhaps  be  going  too  far  to  say 
that  a  proper  Alexandrine  is  inadmissible  in  blank 
verse.  There  would  seem  to  be  nothing  in  the  prin- 
ciple of  blank  verse  opposed  to  the  occasional  em- 
ployment of  the  Alexandrine  ;  but  the  custom  of  our 
modern  poetry  excludes  such  a  variation  even  from 
dramatic  blank  verse  ;  and  unquestionably  by  far  the 
greater  number  of  the  lines  in  Shakespeare  which 
have  been  assumed  by  some  of  his  editors  to  be 
Alexandrines  are  only  instances  of  the  ordinary 
heroic  line  with  the  very  common  peculiarity  of  cer- 
tain superfluous  short  syllables.  That  is  all  that  we 
have  here,  —  the  ordinary  heroic  line  overflowing  its 
bounds,  — which,  besides  that  great  excitement  will 
excuse  such  irregularities,  or  even  demand  them, 
admirably  pictures  the  emotion  of  Cassius,  as  it 
were  acting  his  feat  over  again  as  he  relates  it, — 
with  the  shore  the  two  were  making  for  seeming,  in 
their  increasing  efforts,  to  retire  before  them,  —  and 
panting  with  his  remembered  toil. 

54.  His  coward  lips  didfro7n  their  colour  Jly. — 
There  can,  I  think,  be  no  question  that  Warburton  is 
right  in  holding  that  we  have  here  a  pointed  allusion  to 
a  soldier  flying  from  his  colors.  The  lips  would  never 
otherwise  be  made  to  fly  from  their  color,  instead  of 
their  color  from  them.  The  figure  is  quite  in  Shake- 
speare's manner  and  spirit. 

54.  Did  lose  his  lustre.  —  There  is  no  personifica- 
tion here.  His  was  formerly  neuter  as  well  as  mas- 
culine, or  the  genitive  of  It  as  well  as  of  He;  and 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  i6i 

his  lustre,  meaning  the  lustre  of  the  eye,  is  the  same 
form  of  expression  that  we  have  in  the  texts,  "  The 
fruit-tree  yielding  fruit  after  his  kind,  whose  seed  is 
in  itself  {Gen.  i.  ii)  ;  "/if  shall  bruise  thy  head, 
and  thou  shalt  bruise  his  heel  "  {Gen.  iii.  15)  ;  "  If 
the  salt  have  lost /^/^  savour  "  {Matt.  v.  13,  smdJLuke 
xiv.  34)  ;  "  If  the  salt  have  lost  his  saltness  "  {Mark 
ix.  50 ;)  "  When  they  were  past  the  first  and  the 
second  ward,  they  came  unto  the  iron  gate  that  lead- 
eth  unto  the  city,  which  opened  to  them  of  his  own 
accord  "  {Acts  xii.  10)  ;  "  His  throne  was  like  the 
fiery  flame,  and  his  wheels  as  burning  fire  "  {Dan. 
vii.  9)  ;  and  others.  The  word  Its  does  not  occur 
in  the  authorized  translation  of  the  Bible ;  its  place 
is  always  supplied  either  by  His  or  by  Thereof. 
So  again,  in  the  present  Play,  in  522,  we  have 
"  That  every  nice  offence  should  bear  his  comment ; " 
and  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra^  v.  i,  "  The  heart 
where  mine  his  thoughts  did  kindle."  One  of  the 
most  curious  and  decisive  examples  of  the  neuter  his 
occurs  in  Coriolanus^  i.  i  :  — 

it  [the  belly]  tauntingly  replied 
To  the  discontented  members,  the  mutinous  parts, 
That  envied  his  receipt. 

Its^  however,  is  found  in  Shakespeare.  There  is 
one  instance  in  Measure  for  Measure^  i.  2,  where 
Lucio's  remark  about  coming  to  a  composition  with 
the  King  of  Hungary  draws  the  reply,  "  Heaven 
grant  us  its  peace,  but  not  the  King  of  Hungary's." 
The  its  here,  it  may  be  observed,  has  the  emphasis. 
It  is  printed  without  the  apostrophe  both  in  the  First 
and  in  the  Second  Folio.  But  the  most  remarkable 
of  the  Plays  in  regard  to  this  particular  is  probably 
The  Winter's  Tale.  Here,  in  i.  2,  we  have  so  many 
as  three  instances  in  a  single  speech  of  Leontes :  — 
II 


i62  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

How  sometimes  Nature  will  betray  it's  folly? 
It's  tendernesse  ?  and  make  it  selfe  a  Pastime 
To  harder  bosomes  ?    Looking  on  the  Lynes 
Of  my  Boyes  face,  me  thoughts  I  did  requoyle 
Twentie  three  yeeres,  and  saw  my  selfe  vn-breech'd, 
In  my  greene  Veluet  Coat ;  my  Dagger  muzzel'd, 
Least  it  should  bite  it's  Master,  and  so  proue 
(As  Ornaments  oft  do's)  too  dangerous. 

So  stands  the  passage  in  the  First  Folio.  Nor  does 
the  new  pronoun  here  appear  to  be  a  peculiarity  of 
expression  characteristic  of  the  excited  Sicilian  king ; 
a  little  while  after  in  the  same  scene  we  have  the 
same  form  from  the  mouth  of  Camillo  :  — 

Be  plainer  with  me,  let  me  know  my  Trespas 
By  it's  owne  visage. 

And  again,  in  iii.  3,  we  have  Antigonus,  when  about 
to  lay  down  the  child  in  Bohemia,  observing  that  he 
believes  it  to  be  the  wish  of  Apollo  that 

it  should  heere  be  laide 
(Either  for  life,  or  death)  vpon  the  earth 
Of  it's  right  Father. 

Nor  is  this  all.  There  are  two  other  passages  of 
the  same  Play  in  which  the  modern  editors  also  give 
us  its;  but  in  these  the  original  text  has  //.  The 
first  is  in  ii.  3,  where  Leontes,  in  directing  Antigonus 
to  carry  away  the  "  female  bastard"  to  some  foreign 
land,  enjoins  him  that  he  there  leave  it 

(Without  more  mercy)  to  it  owne  protection. 
The  other  is  in  iii.  2,  where  Hermione's  words  stand 
in  both  the  First  and  Second  Folio,  — 

The  innocent  milke  in  it  most  innocent  mouth. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  assume,  as  the  modern  editors 

do,  that  it  in  these  instances  is  a  misprint  for  its: 

Dr.  Guest  {Phil.  Pro.  i.  280)   has  observed  that  in 

the  dialects  of  the  North-Western  Counties  formerly 


sc.  II,]  Julius  C^sar.  163 

it  was  sometimes  used  for  its;  and  that,  accordingly, 
we  have  not  only  in  Shakespeare's  King  yohn^  ii.  i, 
"  Goe  to  yt  grandame,  child and  it  gran- 
dame  will  giue  yt  a  plumb,"  but  in  Ben  Jonson's 
Silent  Woman^  ii.  3,  "  It  knighthood  and  it  friends." 
So  in  Lear^  i.  4,  we  have  in  a  speech  of  the  Fool, 
"  For  you  know,  Nunckle,  the  Hedge-Sparrow  fed 
the  Cuckoo  so  long,  that  it's  had  it  head  bit  off  by  it 
young  "  (that  is,  that  it  has  had  its  head,  —  not  that 
it  had  its  head,  as  the  modern  editors  give  the 
passage,  after  the  Second  Folio,  in  which  it  stands, 
"  that  it  had  its  head  bit  off  by  it  young  "  ).  This 
use  of  it  is  still  familiar  in  the  popular  speech  of  the 
West  Riding  of  Yorkshire,  and  even  in  the  English 
of  some  parts  of  Ireland.  So,  long  before  its  was 
generally  received,  we  have  2/^^//"  commonly  printed 
in  two  words,  evidently  under  the  impression  that 
it  was  a  possessive,  of  the  same  syntactical  force  with 
the  pronouns  in  my  self^  your  self^  her  self.  And 
even  now  we  do  not  write  itsself.  Formerly,  too, 
according  to  Dr.  Guest,  they  often  said  even  "  The 
King  wife,"  etc.,  for  "  The  King's  wife."  So  he 
holds  that  in  such  modern  phrases  as  "  The  idea  of 
a  thing  being  abstracted,"  t>r  "  of  it  beiiTg  abstracted," 
thing  and  it  are  genitives,  for  thing's  and  its. 

We  have  //  again  in  Lear.,  iv.  2  :  "  that  nature 
which  contemnes  it  origin."  The  passage  is  not  in 
the  Folios ;  but  the  First  Q^iarto  has  ith.,  and  the 
Second  //,  for  the  its  of  the  modern  text. 

There  is  also  one  passage  in  our  English  Bible, 
Levit.  XXV.  5,  in  which  the  reading  of  the  original 
edition  is  "  of  it  own  accord."  The  modern  reprints 
give  "  its."  [In  the  Geneva  Bible,  1579,  we  have 
"  it  owne  accorde  "  in  Acts  xii.  10.] 

Dr.  Guest  asserts  that  its  was  used  generally  by 


164  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

the  dramatists  of  the  age  to  which  the  authorized 
version  of  the  Bible  belongs,  and  also  by  many  of 
their  contemporaries.  Dr.  Trench,  in  his  English^ 
Past  and  Present^  doubts  whether  Milton  has  once 
admitted  it  into  Paradise  Lost^  "  although,  when 
that  was  composed,  others  frequently  allowed  it." 
The  common  'authorities  give  us  no  help  in  such 
matters  as  .this ;  no  notice  is  taken  of  the  word  Its 
either  in  Todd's  Verbal  Index  to  Milton,  or  in  Mrs. 
Clarke's  elaborate  Concordance  to  Shakespeare. 
But  Milton  does  use  Its  occasionally ;  as,  e.  g.  {P. 
L.  i.  254),  "The  mind  is  its  own  place,  and  in 
itself;"  and  (P.  L.  iv.  813),  "No  falsehood  can 
endure  Touch  of  celestial  temper,  but  returns  Of 
force  to  its  own  likeness."  [See  also  Hymn  on  the 
Nativity^  106.]  Generally,  however,  he  avoids  the 
word,  and  easily  manages  to  do  so  by  personifying 
most  of  his  substantives  ;  it  is  only  when  this  cannot 
be  done,  that  he  reluctantly  accepts  the  services  of  the 
little  -parvenu  monosyllable. 

Mr.  Singer,  in  a  note  to  his  edition  of  the  Essays 
and  Wisdom  of  the  Ancients^  p.  200,  seems  to  inti- 
mate that  its  is  nowhere  used  by  Bacon.  Like 
Shakespeare  and  otlier  writers  of  the  time,  he  has 
frequently  his  in  the  neuter. 

Dr.  Trench  notices  the  fact  of  the  occurrence  of 
its  in  Rowley's  Poems  as  decisive  against  their  gen- 
uineness. He  observes,  also,  that  "  Dryden,  when, 
in  one  of  his  fault-finding  moods  with  the  great  men 
of  the  preceding  generation,  he  is  taking  Ben  Jonson 
to  task  for  general  inaccuracy  in  his  English  dic- 
tion, among  other  counts  of  his  indictment,  quotes 
this  line  of  Catiline^  '  Though  heaven  should  speak 
with  all  his  wrath  at  once  ; '  and  proceeds,  '  Heaven 
is    ill    syntax  with  his.^ "     This    is    a   curious    evi- 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C-«;sar.  165 

dence  of  how  completely  the  recent  rise  of  its  had 
come  to  be  generally  forgotten  in  a  single  genera- 
tion. 

The  need  of  it,  indeed,  must  have  been  much  felt. 
If  it  was  convenient  to  have  the  two  forms  He  and 
It  in  the  nominative,  and  Him  and  //  in  the  other 
cases,  a  similar  distinction  between  the  Masculine 
and  the  Neuter  of  the  genitive  must  have  been 
equally  required  for  perspicuous  expression.  Even 
the  personifying  power  of  his  was  impaired  by  its 
being  applied  to  both  genders.  Milton,  consequent- 
ly, it  may  be  noticed,  prefers  wherever  it  is  possible 
the  feminine  to  the  masculine  personification,  as  if 
he  felt  that  the  latter  was  always  obscure  from  the 
risk  of  the  his  being  taken  for  the  neuter  pronoun. 
Thus  we  have  (P.  L.  i.  723)  "  The  ascending  pile 
Stood  fixed  her  stately  height ;  "  (ii.  4)  '*  The  gor- 
geous East  with  richest  hand  Showers  on  her  kings  ; " 
(ii.  175)  "  What  if  all  Her  stores  were  opened,  and 
this  firmament  Of  hell  should  spout  her  cataracts  of 
fire;"  (ii.  271)  "This  desert  soil  Wants  not  her 
hidden  lustre ; "  (ii.  584)  "  Lethe,  the  river  of 
oblivion,  rolls  Her  watery  labyrinth;"  (ix.  1103) 
"  The  fig-tree  .  .  .  spreads  her  arms  ;  "  (  Com.  396) 
"  Beauty  .  .  .  had  need  .  .  .  To  save  her  blossoms 
and  defend  her  fruit ; "  (  Com..  468)  *'  The  soul  grows 
clotted  .  .  .  till  she  quite  lose  The  divine  property 
of  her  first  being ; "  and  so  on,  continually  and 
habitually,  or  upon  system.  His  masculine  personi- 
fications are  comparatively  rare,  and  are  only  ven- 
tured upon  either  where  he  does  not  require  to  use 
the  pronoun,  or  where  its  gender  cannot  be  mis- 
taken. 

Milton  himself,  however,  nowhere,  I  believe,  uses 
his  in  a  neuter  sense.    He  felt  too  keenly  the  annoy- 


1 66  Philological  Commentary.      [act  i. 

ance  of  such  a  sense  of  it  always  coming  in  the  way 
to  spoil  or  prevent  any  other  use  he  might  have 
made  of  it.  The  modern  practice  is  the  last  of  three 
distinct  stages  through  which  the  language  passed  as 
to  this  matter  in  the  course  of  less  than  a  century. 
First,  we  have  his  serving  for  both  masculine  and 
neuter  ;  secondly,  we  have  his  restricted  to  the  mas- 
culine, and  the  neuter  left  with  hardly  any  recognized 
form  ;  thirdly,  we  have  the  defect  of  the  second  stage 
remedied  by  the  frank  adoption  of  the  heretofore  re- 
jected its.  And  the  most  curious  thing  of  all  in  the 
history  of  the  word  its  is  the  extent  to  which,  before 
its  recognition  as  a  word  admissible  in  serious  com- 
position, even  the  occasion  for  its  employment  was 
avoided  or  eluded.  This  is  very  remarkable  in 
Shakespeare.  The  very  conception  which  we  ex- 
press by  its  probably  does  not  occur  once  in  his 
works  for  ten  times  that  it  is  to  be  found  in  any 
modern  writer.  So  that  we  may  say  the  invention, 
or  adoption,  of  this  form  has  changed  not  only  our 
English  style,  but  even  our  manner  of  thinking. 

The  Saxon  personal  pronoun  was,  in  the  Nomina- 
tive singular.  He  for  the  Masculine,  Heo  for  the 
Feminine,  and  Hit  for  the  Neuter.  He  we  still 
retain  ;  for  Heo  we  have  substituted  She^  apparently 
a  modification  of  Seo^  the  Feminine  of  the  Demon- 
strative (6'^,  Seo.,  Thaet) ;  Hit  we  have  converted 
into  It  (though  the  aspirate  is  still  often  heard  in  the 
Scottish  dialect).  The  Genitive  was  Hire  for  the 
Feminine  (whence  our  modern  Her)^  and  His  both 
for  the  Masculine  and  the  Neuter.  So  also  the  mod- 
ern German  has  ihr  for  the  Feminine,  and  only  one 
form,  sein.,  for  both  the  Masculine  and  the  Neuter. 
But  in  the  inflection  of  this  single  form  the  two  gen- 
ders in  Our  ancient  English  were  distinguished  both 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  167 

in  the  Nominative  and  in  the  Accusative,  whereas  in 
German  they  are  distinguished  in  the  Accusative 
only.  They  are  the  same  in  the  Genitive  and  Dative 
in  both  languages. 

It  is  to  be  understood,  of  course,  that  the  its^  how- 
ever convenient,  is  quite  an  irregular  formation  :  the 
/  of  it  (originally  hit)  is  merely  the  sign  of  the  neuter 
gender,*  which  does  not  enter  into  the  inflection, 
leaving  the  natural  genitive  of  that  gender  {Jii^  hi-s) 
substantially  identical  with  that  of  the  masculine  {he^ 
he-s^  hi-s). 

\_Its  and  it's  are  both  found  before  the  end  of  the 
1 6th  century,  though  infrequently. 

Spontaneamente,  willingly,  naturally,  .  .  .  for  its  owne 
sake.  Florio,  A  Worlde  of  JVordes,  1598. 

The  same  writer  uses  ifs  in  "  The  Epistle  Dedi- 
catorie  "  of  his  translation  of  Montaigne's  £^ssays, 
and  several  times  in  other  parts  of  the  work. 

In  Shakespeare  (Folio,  1623)  //^  occurs  but  once, — 
in  the  passage  from  Measure  for  Measure^  quoted 
by  Craik.  It's  is  found  nine  times.  The  instances 
not  given  above  are  the  following :  — 

My  trust 
Like  a  good  parent,  did  beget  of  him 
A  falsehood  in  it's  contrarie,  as  great 
As  my  trust  was.  Tempest^  i.  2. 

Allaying  both  their  fury,  and  my  passion 

With  ifs  sweet  ayre.  Tempest^  i.  2. 

As  milde  and  gentle  as  the  Cradle-babe 
Dying  with  mothers  dugge  betweene  ifs  lips. 

2  Henry  VI.  iii.  2. 

*  [Some  philologists  —  Prof  Key  among  the  number,  I 
believe  —  are  disposed  to  consider  the  -/  as  belonging  to  the 
root.] 


i6S  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

Each  following  day 
Became  the  next  dayes  master,  till  the  last 
Made  former  Wonders,  ifs.  Henry  VIII.  i.  i. 

It^  or  yt^  possessive,  is  found  in  the  Folio  of  1623, 
in  fourteen  passages.  The  following  are  not  men- 
tioned by  Craik :  — 

But  Nature  should  bring  forth 
Of  it  owne  kinde,  all  foyzon,  all  abundance 
To  feed  my  innocent  people.  Tempest^  ii.  i. 

It  hath  it  originall  from  much  greefe ;  — 

2  Henry  IV.  i.  2. 
And  all  her  Husbandry  doth  lye  on  heapes. 
Corrupting  in  it  owne  fertilitie.  Henry  V.  v.  2. 

And  yet  I  warrant  it  had  vpon  it  brow,  etc. 

Romeo  and  Juliet^  i.  3. 

Feeling  in  it  selfe 
A  lacke  of  Timons  ayde,  hath  since  withall 
Of  it  owne  fall.  Timon  of  Athens  •>  v.  i. 

It  lifted  vp  it  head,  and  did  addresse 

It  selfe  to  motion,  like  as  it  would  speake.    Hamlet^  i.  2. 

This  doth  betoken 
The  Coarse  they  follow,  did  with  disperate  hand, 
Fore  do  it  owne  life.  Hamlet^  v.  i. 

It  is  iust  so  high  as  it  is,  and  mooues  with  it  owne  organs. 

Antony  and  Cleopatra,  ii.  7. 
Of  it  owne  colour  too.         Antony  and  Cleopatra,  ii.  7. 
The  Handmaides  of  all  Women,  or  more  truely 
Woman  it  pretty  selfe.  Cymbeline,  iii.  4. 

This  possessive  it  is  found  in  Udal's  Erasmus^ 
1548,  and  in  the  form  hit  even  earlier,  as  in  the 
Anturs  of  Arther:  — 

For  I  wille  speke  with  the  sprete, 
And  of  hit  woe  wille  I  wete, 
Gif  that  I  may  hit  bales  bete. 

For  additional  examples  see  Eastwood  and  Wright's 
Bible  Word-Book. 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  169 

White,  in  a  note  on  "  ifs  folly,"  etc.,  Winter's 
Tale,  i.  2  (vol.  v.  p.  385  of  his  edition  of  the  poet), 
says,  "  It  appears  that  the  possessive  pronoun  its,  in 
its  consolidated  form,  was  not  known  in  Shakespeare's 
time,  and  the  extended  form  it's  was  only  just  coming 
into  use."  In  vol.  i.  (the  last  volume  published). 
Preface,  p.  xiii.,  after  remarking  that  "  no  edition 
is  worthy  of  confidence,  or,  indeed,  to  be  called  an 
edition,  the  text  of  which  has  not  been  compared, 
word  by  word,  with  that  of  the  Folio  of  1623  and 
the  precedent  Quarto  copies ;  "  and  that  "  a  notice 
of  even  the  slightest  deviation  from  the  text  of  1623 
in  this  edition  has  been  deemed  obligatory ; "  and 
that  "  as  a  guarantee  of  accuracy  the  indication  of 
these  trifling  variations  has  its  value ;  "  he  goes  on 
to  say,  "  Careful  literal  conformity  to  the  old  text, 
except  in  its  corruptions  and  irregularities,  has,  how- 
ever, a  greater  value  than  this  of  being  a  guarantee 
of  exactness.  For  instance,  in  these  passages  in 
Hamlet  (the  two  with  it  possessive  given  above), 
and  in  this  from  Lear  ('The  hedge-sparrow,*  etc.), 
the  use  of  it  in  the  possessive  sense  is  not  only  a  trait 
of  the  time,  but,  even  if  there  were  no  other  evidence, 
is  enough  to  show  that  Hamlet  and  Lear  were 
written  before  The  Winter's  Tale,  in  which  we  find 
'  it's  folly  and  ifs  tenderness,'  and  before  Henry 
VIII, ,  in  the  first  scene  of  which  we  have,  '  made 
former  wonders  its'  The  last  passage  affords  the 
earliest  instance  known,  I  believe,  of  the  use  of  the 
neuter  possessive  pronoun  without  the  apostrophe. 
And  yet,  until  the  appearance  of  the  present  edition 
of  Shakespeare's  works,  its  was  given  indiscrimi- 
nately throughout  the  text  of  all  editions." 

If  White's  variations  from  the  Folio  of  1623  in  the 
case  of  this  little  word  its  or  it's  are  to  be  judged  by 


170  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

•the  rule  which  he  himself  lays  down,*  his  edition  is 
not  "  worthy  of  confideijce."  He  has  its  in  seven 
places  where  the  Folio  of  1623  has  either  ifs  or  it 
{Tejnp.  i.  2,  dzs ;  i?.  ^  y.  i.  3  ;  A.  d^  C.  ii.  7,  di's; 
Hen.  K  V.  2  ;  2  Hen.  VI.  iii.  2),  but  in  the  passage 
from  Henjy  VIII. ^  quoted  in  his  Preface  as  the 
earliest  instance  of  its.,  he  has  it's.,  which  is  correct. 
In  Meas.  for  Meas.  (i.  2),  the  date  of  which 
he  makes  ten  years  earlier  than  Henry  VIII..,  he 
has  its.,  which  is  also  correct.  As  we  have  seen, 
this  last  is  the  one  instance  of  its  in  the  Folio.  In 
Temp.n.  i,also.  White  has  its^  but  corrects  it  in 
the  "Additional  Notes "  prefixed  to  his  last  (First) 
volume. 

I  hardly  need  add  that  no  argument  in  regard  to 
the  date  of  the  difterent  Plays  can  be  based  upon  the 
occurrence  of  these  various  forms  of  the  possessive 
its.  We  find  all  three  in  some  of  the  earliest  Plays, 
two  difterent  forms  in  the  very  same  Play,  and  ifs 
in  Henry  VIII..,  which,  according  to  White,  is  the 
latest  of  the  Plays.  The  simple  fact  is,  that  Shake- 
speare wrote  in  the  early  part  of  that  transitional 
period  when  its  was  begin7iing  to  displace  his  and 
her  as  the  possessive  of  it.,  and  that  just  at  that  time 
the  forms  it  and  ifs  were  more  common  than  its., 
though  this  last  was  occasionally  used  even  before 
the  end  of  the  sixteenth  centuiy. 

*  [I  do  not  think  that  they  should  be  thus  judged ;  and 
I  am  very  sure  that  accidental  variations  from  the  text  of 
1623  are  by  no  means  so  frequent  in  White's  Shakespeare 
as  one  might  infer  from  the  examples  here  quoted.  Nor 
are  the  notes  on  this  word  to  be  taken  as  a  fair  sample  of 
the  general  character  of  White's  annotations,  v^^hich,  with 
rare  exceptions,  deserve,  I  doubt  not,  all  the  commendation 
they  have  received  from  critics  *'  older  in  practice,  abler 
than  myself  to  make  conditions."] 


sc.  II.]  Julius  Cjesar.  171 

Besides  the  authorities  aheady  mentioned,  see 
Marsh,  Led.  on  Eng.  Lang.^  First  Series,  p.  397.] 

54,55.  —  And  bear  the  fahii  alone»  —  Another 
general  shout  I  —  Two  hen^istichs  or  broken  lines 
thus  following  one  another  are  not  necessarily  to  be 
regarded  as  prosodically  connected,  any  more  than 
if  they  were  several  sentences  asunder.  The  notion 
that  two  such  consecutive  fragments  were  always 
intended  by  Shakespeare  to  make  a  complete  verse, 
has  led  the  modern  editors,  more  especially  Steevens, 
into  a  great  deal  of  uncalled-for  chopping  and  tinker- 
ing of  the  old  text. 

^6.  But  in  ourselves.  —  In  the  original  edition  it 
is  divided  "  our  selves,"  exactly  as  "  our  stars  "  in  the 
preceding  line.  And  so  always  with  our  self^  your 
self.,  her  self.,  my  self.,  thy  self.,  and  also  it  self.,  but 
never  with  hiynself  or  themselves.     See  54. 

56.  What  should  be  in  that  Ccesar?  —  A  form  of 
speech  now  gone  out.  It  was  a  less  blunt  and  direct 
way  of  saying  What  is  there?  or  What  may  there 
be?  These  more  subtle  and  delicate  modes  of  ex- 
pression, by  the  use  of  the  subjunctive  [or  potential, 
as  some  call  it]  for  the  indicative,  and  of  the  past  for 
the  present,  which  characterize  not  only  the  Oreek 
and  Latin  languages,  but  even  the  German,  have  for 
the  greater  part  perished  in  our  modern  English. 
The  deep  insight  and  creative  force  —  the  "great 
creating  nature  " — which  gave  birth  to  our  tongue 
has  dried  up  under  the  benumbing  touch  of  the  logic 
by  which  it  has  been  trained  and  cultivated. 

56.  More  than  yours.  —  See  Prolegomena^  Sect. 
V.  p.  27.  \_Than  and  then  are  different  forms  of  the 
same  word,  often  used  interchangeably  by  old  wri- 
ters. See  Richardso7i' s  Diet..,  etc.  Milton  has  than 
for  then  in  the  Hymn  on  the  Nativity.,  ^^.'\ 


172      *       Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

56.  Become  the  mouth  as  well.  —  Always  aswell^ 
as  one  word,  in  the  First  Folio. 

56.  The  breed  of  noble  bloods,  — We  scarcely  now 
use  this  plural.  Shakespeare  has  it  several  times ; 
as  afterwards  in  644,  "  I  know  young  bloods  look  for 
a  time  of  rest ;  "  in  Much  Ado  About  Nothings  iii. 
3,  where  Boracio  remarks  how  giddily  fashion  "  turns 
about  all  the  hot  bloods  between  fourteen  and  five 
and  thirty;"  in  The  Winter's  Tale,  i.  i,  w^here 
Leontes  says,  "  To  mingle  friendship  far  is  mingling 
bloods;"  in  King  John,  ii.  i,  where  Philip  of 
France,  to  the  boast  of  John  before  the  walls  of 
Anglers  that  he  brings  as  witnesses  to  his  right  and 
title  "  twice  fifteen  thousand  hearts  of  English  breed," 
replies  (aside)  that 

As  many  and  as  well-born  bloods  as  those 
Stand  in  his  face  to  contradict  his  claim. 

56.  That  her  wide  walls  encompassed  but  one 
man.  —  The  old  reading  is  " wide  walks'^  Despite 
the  critical  canon  which  warns  us  against  easy  or 
obvious  amendments,  it  is  impossible  not  to  believe 
that  we  have  a  misprint  here.  What  Rome's  wide 
walks  may  mean  is  not  obvious  ;  still  less,  how  she 
could  be  encompassed  by  her  walks,  however  wide. 
[Hudson  has  walks;  Collier,  Dyce,  and  White, 
walls.'\ 

56.  Now  is  it  Rome  indeed,  and  room  enough.  — 
Shakespeare's  pronunciation  of  Rome  seems  to  have 
been  Room.  Besides  the  passage  before  us  we  have 
afterwards  in  the  present  Play  (367)  "  No  Rome  of 
safety  for  Octavius  5^et ;  "  and  in  King  John,  iii.  i, 
"  That  1  have  room  with  Rome  to  curse  a  while." 
In  the  First  Part  of  King  Henry  the  Sixth,  it  is 
true,  we  have  the  other  pronunciation  ;  there  (iii.  2), 
the  Bishop  of  Winchester  having  exclaimed  "  Rome 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  173 

shall  remedy  this,"  Warwick  replies  '''-Roam  thither, 
then."  This  little  fact  is  not  without  its  significance 
in  reference  to  the  claim  of  that  Play  to  be  laid  at 
Shakespeare's  door.  [Staunton  quotes  Prime,  Com- 
mentary on  Galatians^  p.  122,  1587  :  "  Rome  is  too 
narrow  a  Room  for  the  church  of  God."] 

56.  But  one  only  man.  —  In  the  original  text 
"  but  one  onely  man,"  jorobably  indicating  that  the 
pronunciation  of  the  numeral  and  of  the  first  syllable 
of  the  adverb  was  the  same. 

57.  That  you  do  love  m^e^  lam  nothing'  jealous.  — 
I  am  nowise  jealous,  doubtful,  suspicious,  in  regard 
to  its  being  the  fact  that  you  love  me.  This  seems 
to  be  the  grammatical  resolution  of  a  construction 
which,  like  man*  similar  ones  familiar  to  the  freer 
spirit  of  the  language  two  centuries  ago,  would  now 
scarcely  be  ventured  upon. 

57.  I  have  some  aifn. — Aim^  in  old  French  eyme^ 
esme^  and  estme^  is  the  same  word  with  esteem  (from 
the  Latin  aestimatio  and  aestimare).,  and  should 
therefore  signify  properly  a  judgment  or  conjecture 
of  the  mind,  which  is  very  nearly  its  meaning  here. 
We  might  now  say,  in  the  same  sense,  I  have  some 
notion.  In  modern  English  the  word  has  acquired 
the  additional  meaning  of  an  intention  to  hit,  or 
catch.  Or  in  some  other  way  attain,  that  to  which  the 
view  is  directed.  It  does  not  seem  impossible  that 
the  French  name  for  the  loadstone,  aimant^  may  be 
from  the  same  root,  although  it  has  usually  been  con- 
sidered to  be  a  corruption  of  ada?nant.  A  ship's 
reckonings  are  called  in  French  estlmes^  which  is 
undoubtedly  the  same  word  with  our  alms.  In  the 
French  of  the  early  part  of  the  sixteenth  century  we 
find  esme  and  esme  (or  esmez^  as  it  was  commonly 
written)  confounded  with  the  totally  different  aimer^ 


174  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

to  love.  Rabelais,  for  instance,  writes  Men  aymez 
for  Men  esmez^  well  disposed.  See  Duchat's  Note 
on  liv.  i.,  ch.  5. 

57.  I^or  this  present.  —  So  in  the  Absolution^ 
"  that  those  things  may  please  him  which  we  do  at 
this  present."  This  expression,  formerly  in  universal 
use  and  good  repute,  now  remains  only  a  musty  law 
phrase,  never  admitted  into  ordinary  composition 
except  for  ludicrous  effect. 

^^.  So  with  love  I  might  entreat  you.  —  This 
form  of  expression  is  still  preserved  both  in  our 
own  language  and  in  German.  Thus  {yohn  i.  25), 
"  Warum  taufest  du  denn,  so  du  nicht  Christus 
bist?"  or,  "  So  Gott  will"  (If  God  please).  The 
conjunction  thus  used  is  commonly  said  to  be  equiv- 
alent to  if.  But  so^  according  to  Home  Tooke  (Z?. 
of  P.  147),  is  merely  the  Moeso-Gothic  demonstra- 
tive pronoun,  and  signifies  properly  this  or  that. 
In  German,  though  commonly,  as  with  ourselves, 
only  an  adverb  or  conjunction,  it  may  still  be  also 
used  pronominally  ;  as  Das  Buch.^  so  ihr  tnir  gege- 
ben  habt  (the  book  which  you  gave  me).  Upon 
this  theory,  all  that  so  will  perform  in  such  a  pas- 
sage as  the  present  will  be  to  mark  and  separate  the 
clause  which  it  heads  by  an  emphatic  introductory 
compendium — That  (or  this).,  namely,  that  with 
love  I  might,  etc. ;  and  the  fact  of  the  statement  in 
the  clause  being  a  supposition,  or  assumption,  will 
be  left  to  be  inferred.  The  First  Folio  points,  blun- 
deringly, "  I  would  not  so  (with  love  I  might  in- 
treat  you)." 

57.  Chew  upon  this.  —  We  have  lost  the  Saxon 
word  in  this  application ;  but  we  retain  the  meta- 
phor, only  translating  chew  into  the  Latin  equiva- 
lent, ruminate. 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  175 

^^.  Brutus  had  rather  be  .  .  ,  than  to  repute, 
[See  on  had  as  lief^  54.]  The  to  before  repute  is, 
apparently,  to  be  defended,  if  at  all,  upon  the  ground 
that  had  rather  is  equivalent  in  import  to  would 
prefer^  and  that,  although  it  is  only  an  auxiliary 
before  be  a  villager^  it  is  to  be  taken  as  a  common 
verb  before  to  repute.  It  is  true  that,  as  we  have 
seen  (i),  the  to  was  in  a  certain  stage  of  the  lan- 
guage sometimes  inserted,  sometimes  omitted,  both 
after  auxiliaries  and  after  other  verbs  ;  but  that  was 
hardly  the  style  of  Shakespeare's  age.  We  certainly 
could  not  now  say  "  I  had  rather  to  repute ; "  and  I 
do  not  suppose  that  any  one  would  have  directly 
so  written  or  spoken  then.  The  irregularity  is  soft- 
ened or  disguised  in  the  passage  before  us  by  the 
intervening  words. 

57.  Under  these  hard  conditions  as.  —  This  is 
the  reading  in  all  the  old  copies  ;  these  —  as  where 
we  should  now  say  such  —  as^  or  those  —  that.  So 
in  129  we  have  "  To  such  a  man  That  is  no  fleering 
tell-tale."  Although  those  —  as^  or  that  —  as^  is 
common,  however,  these  —  as  is  certainly  at  any 
rate  unusual.  I  should  suspect  the  true  reading  to 
be  "  under  those  hard  conditions."     See  44. 

S^,  Is  like.  —  This  form  of  expression  is  not 
quite,  but  nearly,  gone  out.  We  now  commonly 
say  is  likely. 

58.  /  am  glad  that  my  weak  words.  —  In  this 
first  line  of  the  speech  of  Cassius  and  the  last  of  the 
preceding  speech  of  Brutus  we  have  two  hemistichs, 
having  no  prosodical  connection.     [See  54,  55.] 

Re-enter  Caesar.  —  In  the  original  text  it  is  Enter. 

60.  What  hath  proceeded.  —  That  is,  simply, 
happened,  —  a  sense  which  the  verb  has  now  lost. 

61.  I  will  do  so^  etc.  —  Throughout  the  Play,  the 


176  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

ius  of  Cassius  (as  also  of  Lucilius)  makes  some- 
times only  one  syllable,  sometimes  two,  as  here. 

62.  Being  crossed  in  conference^  etc.  —  If  the 
being  and  confereiice  be  fully  enunciated,  as  they 
will  be  in  any  but  the  most  slovenly  reading,  we 
have  two  supernumerary  syllables  in  this  line,  but 
both  so  short  that,  neither  the  mechanism  nor  the 
melody  of  the  verse  is  at  all  impaired  by  them. 

6<,.  Let  me  have  men  about  m,e^  etc.  —  Some  of 
the  expressions  in  this  speech  are  evidently  sug- 
gested by  those  of  North  in  his  translation  of  Plu- 
tarch's Life  of  Caesar  :  "  When  Caesar's  friends  com- 
plained unto  him  of  Antonius  and  Dolabella,  that 
they  pretended  [i.  e.  intended']  some  mischief  to- 
wards him,  he  answered.  As  for  those  fat  men  and 
smooth-combed  heads  (quoth  he),  I  never  reckon 
of  them  ;  but  these  pale-visaged  and  carrion-lean 
people,  I  fear  them  most ;  meaning  Brutus  and  Cas- 
sius." 

65.  Such  as  sleep  d  nights.  —  That  is,  on  nights  ; 
as  d clock  is  on  clock,  and  also  as  aboard  is  on  board, 
aside  on  side,  aloft  on  loft,  alive  in  life,  etc.  In  the 
older  stages  of  the  language  the  meanings  that  we 
now  discriminate  by  on  and  in  are  confused,  and  are 
both  expressed  by  an^  on^  un^  in^  or  in  composition 
by  the  contractions  a  or  o.  The  form  here  in  the 
original  text  is  a-nights.  [The  prefix  a-  or  an-  is 
essentially  identical  with  on-.  An-,  with  its  abbrevi- 
ation a-,  is  said  to  characterize  the  dialects  of  the 
southern  counties  of  England,  while  on-  and  o-  mark 
the  northern  dialects.  In  many  instances  the  two 
forms  remain  side  by  side,  as  in  aboard  and  on 
board,  afire  and  on  fire,  aground  and  on  ground 
(2  Henry  IV.  iv.  4),  a  high  {Richard  III.  iv.  4) 
and  on  high,  afoot  and  on  foot,  asleep  and  on  sleep 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  177 

(^Acts  xiii.  36),  abed  and  on  bed  (Chaucer,  C.  T. 
6509),  alive  and  on  live  ( C  T.  5587).  Compare 
also  Saxon  forms  like  o7i-weg  and  a-weg^  away.  In 
ado^  the  a-  is  equivalent  to  to.  So  in  a-work  (2 
Henry  /K  iv.  3  ;  2  Chron.  ii.  18).  See  Bible 
Word- B 00k ^   Wedgwood.,  Nares.,  etc.] 

65.  26?;z^  Cassitis.  —  Though  yond  is  no  longer  in 
use,  we  still  have  both  yon  and  yonder.  The  d  is 
probably  no  proper  part  of  the  word,  but  has  been 
added  to  strengthen  the  sound,  as  in  the  word  sound 
itself  (from  the  French  son).,  and  in  many  other 
cases.  [As  we  have  in  Saxon  geond  =  illuc,  and 
x\o  yofi.,  it  is  not  likely  \k\2it  yond  has  gained  a  d.,  but 
rather  that  yon  has  lost  one.  It  may  be  that  yon  is 
an  old  form  which  has  come  down  to  us  orally, 
though  not  found  in  literature.  The  root  is  the 
same  as  in  the  German y^;/^/-,  Gothic  y^^W.] 

^6.  Well  given.  —  Although  we  no  longer  say 
absolutely  well  or  ill  given  (for  well  or  ill  disposed), 
we  still  say  given  to  study,  given  to  drinking,  etc. 

67.  [  Would  he  were  fatter.  —  White  prints 
^ would.,  as  he  does  again  in  218,  and  as  some  other 
editors  have  done  in  these  and  similar  passages. 
But  even  if  the  would  is  equivalent  to  /  would., 
there  is  no  reason  for  the  apostrophe,  which  is  used 
only  when  a  part  of  the  word  has  been  cut  off,  as 
in  '/  is  for  it  is.'\ 

67.  Tet.,  if  7ny  name. -r— A.  poetic  idiom  for  "  Yet, 
if  I,  bearing  the  name  I  do."  In  the  case  of  Caesar 
the  name  was  even  more  than  the  representative  and 
most  precise  expression  of  the  person ;  it  was  that 
in  which  his  power  chiefly  resided,  his  renown. 
Every  reader  of  Milton  will  remember  the  magnifi- 
cent passage  {P.  L.  ii.  964), — 
12 


178  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

Behold  the  throne 
Of  Chaos,  and  his  dark  pavilion  spread 
Wide  on  the  wasteful  deep ;  with  him  enthroned 
Sat  sable-vested  Night,  eldest  of  things, 
The  consort  of  his  reign ;  and  by  them  stood 
Orcus  and  Ades,  and  the  dreaded  name 
Of  DemogorgoD- 

6^.  Liable  to  fear.  —  The  word  liable  has  been 
somewhat  restricted  in  its  application  since  Shake- 
speare's time.  We  should  scarcely  now  speak  of  a 
person  as  liable  to  fear.  And  see  248  for  anothei 
application  of  it  still  farther  away  from  our  present 
usage. 

67.  \^He  hears  no  music. — Compare  Mer.  of  Ven. 
V.  I,  "  The  man  that  hath  not  music  in  himself,"  etc.] 

67.  Such  men  as  he^  etc.  —  In  this  and  the  fol- 
lowing line  we  have  no  fewer  than  three  archaisms, 
words  or  forms  which  would  not  and  could  not  be 
used  by  a  writer  of  the  present  day:  be  (for  are), 
at  heart's  ease  (for  in  ease  of  mind),  whiles  (for 
while).  It  would  be  difficult  to  show  that  the  lan- 
guage has  not  in  each  of  these  instances  lost  some- 
thing which  it  would  have  been  the  better  for 
retaining.  But  it  seems  to  be  a  law  of  every  lan- 
guage which  has  become  thoroughly  subdued  under 
the  dominion  of  grammar,  that  perfectly  synony- 
mous terms  cannot  live  in  it.  If  varied  forms  are 
not  saved  by  having  distinct  senses  or  functions  as- 
signed to  each,  they  are  tl\rown  off  as  superfluities 
and  encumbrances.  One  is  selected  for  use,  and 
the  others  are  reprobated,  or  left  to  perish  from 
mere  neglect.  The  logic  of  this  no  doubt  is,  that 
verbal  expression  will  only  be  a  correct  representa- 
tion of  thought  if  there  should  never  be  even  the 
slightest  variation  of  the  one  without  a  correspond- 
ing variation  of  the  other.     But  the  principle  is  not 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  179 

necessarily  inconsistent  with  the  existence  of  various 
forms  which  should  be  recognized  as  differing  in  no 
other  respect  whatever  except  only  in  vocal  charac- 
ter ;  and  the  language  would  be  at  least  musically 
richer  with  more  of  this  kind  of  variety.  It  is  what 
it  regards  as  the  irregularity  or  lawlessness,  how- 
ever, of  such  logically  unnecessary  variation  that 
the  grammatical  spirit  hates.  It  would  be  argued 
that  with  two  or  more  words  of  precisely  the  same 
signification  we  should  have  really  something  like 
a  confusion  of  two  or  more  languages.  [  Whiles  is 
the  genitive  singular  of  while^  which  was  originally 
a  noun,  used  as  an  adverb.  In  Icelandic  the  geni- 
tive is  used  adverbially,  and  -is  is  the  common  termi- 
nation of  adverbs  formed  from  nouns.  Whiles  is 
found  in  Matthew,  v.  25.  Needs^  in  phrases  like 
"  must  needs,"  is  another  instance  of  the  genitive 
used  adverbially.  Compare  the  Saxon  neddes^  of 
necessity.] 

67.  For  the  present  stage  direction  at  the  end  of 
this  speech,  we  have  in  the  original  text  ''''Sennit, 
Exeunt  C<^sar  and  his  Traine" 

69.  What  hath  chanced  to-day .  —  So  in  71 ,  where, 
also,  most  of  the  modern  editions  have  "  what  hath 
chanced,"  although  had  is  the  word  in  all  the  Folios. 
Instead  of  to  chance  in  this  sense  we  now  usually 
say  to  happen.  Chance  is  French  [the  Latin  caden- 
tia^  and  not,  as  Craik  says,  from  the  cas-  of  casus 
strengthened  by  inserting  n']  ;  happen^  hap.,  and  also 
happy ^  appear  to  be  derivatives  from  a  Welsh  word, 
hap  or  hab^  luck,  fortune.  The  Saxon  verb  was 
befeallan.,  from  which  also  we  have  still  to  befall. 

78.  Ay^  7tiarry^  ivas't.  —  This  term  of  assevera- 
tion, marry .^  which  Johnson  seems  to  speak  of  as 
still  in  common  use  in  his  day,  is  found  in  Chaucer 


i8o  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

in  the  form  Mary^  and  appears  to  be  merely  a  mode 
of  swearing  by  the  Holy  Virgin.  [Of  course,  its 
origin  had  come  to  be  forgotten  in  Shakespeare's 
day,  so  that  its  use  here  is  no  anachronism.] 

78.  Every  time  gentler  than  other.  —  So  in 
Meas.for  Meas.  iv.  4:  "  Every  letter  he  hath  writ 
hath  disvouched  other."  \^Other  \\\  these  passages 
appears  to  be  the  plural  of  other,  Saxon  othere. 
Compare  Latimer  {Sermons):  "It  is  no  marvel 
that  they  go  about  to  keep  other  in  darkness."  So 
Luke  xxiii.  32  ;  Phil.  ii.  3  ;  iv.  3.] 

82.  The  rabblement  shouted.  —  The  first  three 
Folios  have  howled.^  the  Fourth  houted.  The  com- 
mon reading  is  hooted.  But  this  is  entirely  incon- 
sistent with  the  context.  The  people  applauded 
when  Caesar  refused  the  crown,  and  only  hissed  or 
hooted  when  they  thought  he  was  about  to  accept 
it.  Shouted  was  substituted  on  conjecture  by  Han- 
mer.  [Dyce  and  Hudson  have  hooted;  Collier  and 
White,  shouted.'] 

82.  Eor  he  swooned.  —  Swoonded  is  the  word  in 
all  the  Folios. 

83.  Did  CcBsar  swoon?  —  Here  swound  is  the 
word  in  all  the  Folios. 

85.  ^Tis  very  like :  he  hath  the  falling  sickness. — 
Like  is  likely,  or  probable,  as  in  57.  I  am  surprised 
to  find  Mr.  Collier  adhering  to  the  blundering  punc- 
tuation of  the  early  copies,  "  'Tis  very  like  he  hath," 
etc.  Caesar's  infirmity  was  notorious ;  it  is  men- 
tioned both  by  Plutarch  and  Suetonius. 

^6.  And  honest  Casca,  etc.  —  The  slight  inter- 
ruption to  the  flow  of  this  line  occasioned  by  the 
supernumerary  syllable  in  Casca  adds  greatly  to  the 
effect  of  the  emphatic  we  that  follows.  It  is  like  the 
swell  of  the  wave  before  it  breaks. 


sc.  II. J  Julius  C^sar.  i8i 

S^j.  If  the  tag-rag  people.  —  In  Coriolanus^  iii. 
I,  we  have  "  Will  you  hence,  before  the  ^^z^ return.'* 
"  This,"  says  Nares,  "  is,  perhaps,  the  only  instance 
of /<2^  without  his  companions  ragsimX  bobtail^  or  at 
least  one  of  them.  [The  expression  "  tag  and  rag" 
is  old  in  English  poetry.  Collier  quotes  from  John 
Partridge,  1566 : 

To  walles  they  goe,  both  tagge  and  ragge, 
Their  citie  to  defende.] 

^^.  JVo  true  ma?z.  —  No  honest  man,  as  we  should 
now  say.  Jurymen,  as  Malone  remarks,  are  still 
styled  "good  men  and  true." 

89.  He  plucked  me  ofe  his  doublet.  —  Though 
we  still  use  to  ope  in  poetry,  ope  as  an  adjective  is 
now  obsolete.  As  for  the  me  in  such  a  phrase  as 
the  present,  it  may  be  considered  as  being  in  the 
same  predicament  with  the  my  in  My  Lord^  or  the 
mon  in  the  French  Monsieur.  That  is  to  say,  it  has 
no  proper  pronominal  signiticancy,  but  merely  serves 
(in  so  far  as  it  has  any  effect)  to  enliven  or  otherwise 
grace  the  expression.  How  completely  the  pronoun 
is  forgotten,  —  or  we  may  say,  quiescent  —  in  such 
a  case  as  that  of  Monsieur  is  shown  by  the  common 
phrase  "  Mon  cher  monsieur."     See  205  and  470. 

The  best  commentary  on  the  use  of  the  pronoun 
that  we  have  here  is  the  dialogue  between  Petrucio 
and  his  servant  Grumio,  in  Tafn.  of  Shrew,  i.  2 : 
''''Pet.  Villain,  I  say,  knock  me  here  soundly.  Gru. 
Knock  you  here,  sir?  Why,  sir,  what  am  I,  sir,  that 
I  should  knock  you  here,  sir?  Pet.  Villain,  I  say, 
knock  me  at  this  gate,  and  rap  me  well,  or  I'll  knock 
your  knave's  pate.  Gru.  My  master  is  grown  quar- 
relsome :  I  should  knock  you  first,  And  then  I  know 
after  who  comes  by  the  worst.  .  .  .  Hortensio.  How 
now,  what's  the  matter  ?  .  .  .    Gru.  Look  you,  sir, — 


1 82  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

he  bid  me  knock  him,  and  rap  him  soundly,  sir: 
Well,  was  it  fit  for  a  servant  to  use  his  master 
so  ?_  .  .  .  Pet.  A  senseless  villain !  —  Good  Hor- 
tensio,  I  bade  the  rascal  knock  upon  your  gate.  And 
could  not  get  him  for  my  heart  to  do  it.  Gru. 
Knock  at  the  gate  ?  —  O  heavens  !  Spake  you  not 
these  words  plain,  — '  Sirrah,  knock  me  here.  Rap 
me  here,  knock  me  well,  and  knock  me  soundly?* 
And  come  you  now  with  —  knocking  at  the  gate  ?  " 

89.  A  man  of  any  occupation.  —  This  is  explained 
by  Johnson  as  meaning  "  a  mechanic,  one  of  the 
plebeians  to  whom  he  offered  his  throat."  But  it 
looks  as  if  it  had  more  in  it  than  that.  In  the  Folios 
it  is  "  and  I  had  been  a  man ; "  and  again  in  95 
"  and  I  tell  you."  So  also  Bacon  writes  (Essay 
23d),  "Certainly  it  is  the  nature  of  extreme  self- 
lovers,  as  they  will  set  an  house  on  fire,  and  it  were 
but  to  roast  their  eggs ;"  and  (Essay  40th),  "For 
time  is  to  be  honoured  and  respected,  and  it  were 
but  for  her  daughters.  Confidence  and  Reputation." 

\_And  or  an  for  if  is  very  common  in  old  writers. 

*'  And  why,  sire,"  quod  I,  '■'•  and  yt  like  you." 

Chaucer,  Legend  of  Good  Women.,  319. 

So  wote  Crist  of  his  curteisie, 
And  men  crye  him  mercy, 
Bothe  forgyve  and  forgete. 

Piers  Ploughman's  Vis.  11 849. 

And  if.,  or  an  if  are  as  frequent. 

But  and  tfwe  have  this  livery,  if  we  wear  his  cognizance, 
etc.  Latimer,  Sermons. 

I  pray  thee,  Launce,  and  z/"thou  seest  my  boy. 

Two  Gent,  of  Verona,  iii.  i. 

See  also  Matthew  xxiv.  48. 

Home  Tooke  derives  an  from  the  Saxon  unnan^ 
to  grant,  as  he  does  ff  {gif  in  Old  English)  from 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  183 

gifan^  to  give  ;  and  this  etymology  is  adopted  in  the 
last  revision  of  Webster's  Diet.  Wedgwood,  on  the 
other  hand,  regards  the  word  as  a  fragment  of  even^ 
and  Marsh,  in  his  edition  of  Wedgwood,  allows  tliis 
derivation  and  the  long  disquisition  upon  it,  to  pass 
without  comment.  See  also  Richardson's  Diet,  and 
the  Bible  Word-Book.'\ 

95.  Marullus  and  Flavins.  —  In  this  instance  the 
Marullns  is  Murrellus  in  the  First  Folio  (instead 
oi Murellus^  as  elsewhere). 

97.  I  am  promised  forth.  —  An  old  phrase  for,  I 
have  an  engagement. 

102.  He  was  quick  mettle.  —  This  is  the  reading 
of  all  the  old  copies.  I  have  allowed  the  distinction 
made  by  the  modern  editors  between  metal  and  met- 
tle to  stand  throughout  the  Play,  although  the  latter 
form  is  merely  a  corruption  of  the  former.  In  the 
First  Folio  it  is  always  mettle;  in  16  and  105,  as 
well  as  here  and  in  177  and  505. 

103.  However  he  puts  on.  —  We  should  hardly 
now  use  however.,  in  this  sense,  with  the  indicative 
mood.  We  should  have  to  say,  "  However  he  may 
put  on."  — This  tardy  form :  this  shape,  semblance, 
of  tardiness  or  dulness. 

104.  I  will  come  home  to  you  .  .  .  Come  home  to 
7ne.  —  To  come  home  to  one,  for  to  come  to  one's 
house,  is  another  once  common  phrase  which  is  now 
gone  out  of  use. 

105.  Think  of  the  world.  —  The  only  meaning 
that  this  can  have  seems  to  be.  Think  of  the  state  in 
which  the  world  is. 

105.  From  that  it  is  disposed.  —  Here  we  have 
the  omission,  not  only  of  the  relative,  which  can 
easily  be  dispensed  with,  but  also  of  the  preposition 
governing  it,  which  is  an  essential  part  of  the  verb  ; 


184  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

but,  illegitimate  as  such  syntax  may  be,  it  is  common 
with  our  writers  down  to  a  date  long  subsequent  to 
Shakespeare's  age.     See  224. 

105.  Therefore  it  is  7neet.  —  It  is  (instead  of  His) 
is  the  reading  of  the  First  Folio,  which  has  been  re- 
stored by  Mr.  Knight.  [So  Dyce.]  The  excess  here 
is  of  a  syllable  (the  fore  of  therefore)  not  quite  so 
manageable  as  usual,  and  it  makes  the  verse  move 
ponderously,  if  we  must  not  say  halt ;  but  perhaps 
such  a  prosody  may  be  thought  to  be  in  accordance 
with  the  grave  and  severe  spirit  of  the  passage. 

105.  With  their  likes.  —  We  scarcely  use  this 
substantive  now. 

105.  Ccesar  doth  bear  ?ne  hard.  —  Evidently  an 
old  phrase  for,  does  not  like  me,  bears  me  a  grudge. 
It  occurs  again  in  199,  and  a  third  time  in  344.*  In 
199,  and  there  only,  the  editor  of  the  Second  Folio 
has  changed  hard  into  hatred.,  in  which  he  has  been 
followed  by  the  Third  and  Fourth  Folios,  and  also 
by  Rowe,  Pope,  Hanmer,  and  even  Capel.  Mr. 
Collier's  MS.  annotator  restores  the  hard.  It  is 
remarkable  that  the  expression,  meeting  us  so  often 
in  this  one  Play,  should  be  found  nowhere  else  in 
Shakespeare.  Nor  have  the  commentators  been  able 
to  refer  to  an  instance  of  its  occurrence  in  any  other 
writer. 

[Staunton  considers  the  phrase  "  equivalent,  liter- 
ally, to  keeps  a  tight  rein  upon  me.,  and  metaphori- 
cally, to  does  not  trust  ?ne.,  or  fears  ^  or  doubts  me.'^ 
In  199  Dyce,  Hudson,  and  White  have  hard.'\ 

105.  He  should  not  humour  me.  —  The  meaning 
seems  to  be.  If  I  were  in  his  position  (a  favorite  with 
Caesar),  and  he  in  mine  (disliked  by  Ceesar),  he 
should  not  cajole,  or  turn  and  wind,  me,  as  I  now  do 
him.     He  and  me  are  to  be  contrasted  by  the  em- 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  185 

phasis,  in  the  same  manner  as  /and  he  in  the  pre- 
ceding line.  This  is  Warburton's  explanation  ;  whose 
remark,  however,  that  the  words  convey  a  reflection 
on  Brutus's  ingratitude,  seems  unfounded.  It  is 
rather  Brutus's  simplicity  that  Cassius  has  in  his 
mind.  It  would  be  more  satisfactory,  however,  if 
other  examples  could  be  produced  of  the  use  of  the 
verb  to  hufnor  in  the  sense  assumed.  Johnson  ap- 
pears to  have  quite  mistaken  the  meaning  of  the 
passage  :  he  takes  the  he  to  be,  not  Brutus,  but  Caesar ; 
and  his  interpretation  is,  "  his  (that  is,  Caesar's)  love 
should  not  take  hold  of  my  affection,  so  as  to  make 
me  forget  my  principles." 

105.  In  several  hands,  —  Writings  in  several 
hands. 

105.  Let  Ccesar  seat  him  sure.  —  Seat  himself 
firmly  (as  on  horseback). 

Scene  III.  —  The  heading  of  Scene  III,  in  the 
old  copies  is  only  '^  Thunder  and  Lightning.  Enter 
Casca,  and  Cicero." 

106.  Brought  you  Ccesar  home? — Bring^vj\\\Q}[i 
is  now  ordinarily  restricted  to  the  sense  of  carrying 
hither  (so  that  we  cannot  say.  Bring  there)  ^  was 
formerly  used  in  that  of  carrying  or  conveying  gen- 
erally. To  bring  one  on  his  way,  for  instance,  was 
to  accompany  him  even  if  he  had  been  leaving  the 
speaker.  So  "  Brought  you  Caesar  home?  "  is.  Did 
you  go  home  with  Caesar  ?  [Compare  Genesis  xviii. 
16  ;  Acts  xxi.  5  ;  Romans  xv.  24.]  To  fotch^  again, 
seems  always  to  have  meant  more  than  to  bring  or 
to  carry.  "  A  horse  cannot  fetch,  but  only  carry," 
says  Launce  in  The  Two  Gent,  of  Ver,  iii.  i. 

107.  All  the  sway  of  earth,  —  That  is,  the  bal- 
anced swing  of  earth. 


1 86  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

107.  Like  a  thing  unfirm,  —  We  have  now  lost 
the  adjective  unfirm^  and  we  have  appropriated 
ififirfti  almost  exclusively  to  the  human  body  and 
mind,  and  their  states  and  movements.  For  infirm 
generally  we  can  only  say  not  firm. 

107.  Have  rived.  —  We  have  nearly  lost  this 
form,  which  is  the  one  Shakespeare  uses  in  the  only 
two  passages  in  which  (if  we  may  trust  to  Mrs. 
Clarke)  the  past  participle  passive  of  the  verb  to 
rive  is  found  in  his  works.  The  other  is  also  in 
this  Play :  "  Brutus  hath  rived  my  heart,"  in  553. 
Milton,  again,  has  our  modern  riven  in  the  only 
passage  of  his  poetry  in  which  any  part  of  the  verb 
to  rive  occurs,  {^P.  L.  vi.  449)  :  "  His  riven  arms  to 
havoc  hewn." 

107.  To  be  exalted  with.  —  That  is,  in  order,  or 
in  the  effort,  to  be  raised  to  the  same  height  with. 

107.  A  tempest  dropping  fire.  —  In  the  original 
text  these  three  words  are  joined  together  by 
hyphens. 

107.  A  civil  strife  in  heaven.  —  A  strife  in  which 
one  part  of  heaven  wars  with  another.  , 

108.  Any  thing  more  wonderful.  —  That  is,  any- 
thing more  that  was  wonderful.  So  in  Coriolanus^ 
iv.  6 :  — 

The  slave's  report  is  seconded,  and  more, 
More  fearful,  is  delivered. 

So  also  in  King  John.,  iv.  2 :  — 

Some  reasons  of  this  double  coronation 

I  have  possessed  you  with,  and  think  them  strong; 

And  more,  more  strong,  .  .  . 

I  shall  endue  jou  with. 

109.  Tou  know  him  well  by  sight.  —  Is  it  to  be 
supposed  that  Casca  really  means  to  say  that  the 
common  slave  whom  he  chanced  to  meet  was  a  par- 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  187 

ticular  individual  well  known  to^Cicero?  Of  what 
importance  could  that  circumstance  be?  Or  for 
what  purpose  should  Casca  notice  it,  even  supposing 
him  to  have  been  acquainted  with  the  fact  that  Cicero 
knew  the  man  well,  and  yet  knew  him  only  by  sight? 
It  is  impossible  not  to  suspect  some  interpolation  or 
corruption.  Perhaps  the  true  reading  may  be,  "You 
knew  him  well  by  sight,"  meaning  that  any  one 
would  have  known  him  at  once  to  be  but  a  common 
slave  (notwithstanding  the  preternatural  appearance, 
as  if  almost  of  something  godlike,  which  his  uplifted 
hand  ejchibited,  burning  but  unhurt).  [The  incident 
is  taken  from  North's  Plutarch,  "  There  was  a  slave 
of  the  souldiers  that  did  cast  a  marvellous  burning 
flame  out  of  his  hands,  insomuch  as  they  that  saw  it 
thought  he  had  been  burnt ;  but  when  the  fire  was 
out,  it  was  found  that  he  had  no  hurt."  —  Life  of 
yulius  Ccesar.  "You  know  him  well  by  sight" 
seems  to  me  a  less  singular  expression  than  the  one 
which  Craik  suggests  as  an  emendation.  It  is  nothing 
strange  that  both  Cicero  and  Casca  should  happen 
to  know  a  particular  slave  by  sight,  and  it  is  natural 
enough  that  Casca  in  relating  this  prodigy  to  his 
friend  should  say,  And  you  yourself  know  the  man.] 

109.  Besides  (/  have  not  since ^  etc.  -^—  In  the 
Folios,  "  I  ha'  not  since." 

109.  Against  the  Capitol,  —  Over  against,  oppo- 
site to. 

109.  Who  glared  upon  me.  —  In  all  the  Folios 
the  word  is  glazed.  Pope  first  changed  it  to  glared. 
Malone  afterwards  substituted  gazed^  partly  on  the 
strength  of  a  passage  in  Stowe's  Chronicle,  —  which 
gave  Steevens  an  opportunity  of  maliciously  rejoin- 
ing, after  quoting  other  instances  of  Shakespeare's 
use  of  glare^    "  I   therefore   continue   to  repair  the 


1 88  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

poet  with  his  own  animated  phraseology,  rather  than 
with  the  cold  expression  suggested  by  the  narrative 
of  Stowe ;  who,  having  been  a  tailor,  was  undoubt- 
edly equal  to  the  task  of  mending  Shakespeare's 
hose,  but,  on  poetical  emergencies,  must  not  be 
allowed  to  patch  his  dialogue."  Glared  is  also  the 
correction  of  Mf.  Collier's  MS.  annotator. 

109.  Drawn  upon  a  heap.  —  Gathered  together 
in  a  heap,  or  crowd.  "  Among  this  princely  heap," 
says  Gloster  in  Richard  III.  ii.  i.  Heap  was  in 
common  use  in  this  sense  throughout  the  seventeenth 
century.     [Compare  Chaucer,  Prioresses  Tale:  — 

A  litel  scole  of  Cristen  folk  ther  stood 
Doun  at  the  ferther  ende,  in  which  ther  were 
Children  an  hepe  comen  of  Cristen  blood.] 

109.  The  bird  of  night.  —  The  owl ;  as  the  "bird 
of  dawning"  (the  cock)  in  Hamlet.,  i.  i. 

109.  Hooting  and  shrieking.  —  Howti^tg  is  the 
word  in  the  first  three  Folios,  houting  in  the  Fourth. 

109.  Even  at  noonday.,  etc.  —  There  may  be  a 
question  as  to  the  prosody  of  this  line  ;  whether  we 
are  to  count  even  a  monosyllable  and  throw  the  ac- 
cent upon  day.,  or  making  even  a  dissyllable  and 
accenting  noon.,  to  reckon  day  supernumerary. 

109.  These  are  their  reasons.,  etc.  —  That  such  and 
such  are  their  reasons.  It  is  the  same  form  of  expres- 
sion that  we  have  afterwards  in  147  :  "Would  run  to 
these  and  these  extremities."  But  the  present  line 
has  no  claim  to  either  a  distinctive  type  or  inverted 
commas.  It  is  not  as  if  it  were  "  These  are  our  rea- 
sons." [Collier  in  his  "Regulated  Text"  adopts 
the  emendation,  seasons.,  of  his  MS.  annotator,  but 
in  his  second  edition  he  returns  to  the  old  reading.] 

109.  Unto  the  climate.  —  The  region  of  the  earth, 
according   to   the  old  geographical  division  of  the 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  189 

globe  into  so  many  Climates^  which  had  no  refer- 
ence, or  only  an  accidental  one,  to  differences  of  tem- 
perature. 

no.  A  strange-dzspQsed  time.  —  We  should  now 
have  to  use  the  adverb  in  this  kind  of  combination. 
If  we  still  say  strange-shaped^  it  is  because  there  we 
seem  to  have  a  substantive  for  the  adjective  to  qual- 
ify ;  just  as  we  have  in  higJi-mind-ed^  strong-mind- 
ed^ able-bodi-ed^  and  other  similar  forms.  In  other 
cases,  again,  it  is  the  adjective,  and  not  the  adverb, 
that  enters  into  the  composition  of  the  verb  ;  thus  we 
say  strange-looking.,  mad-lookijzg^  heavy-looking.^ 
etc.,  because  the  verb  is  to  look  strange^  etc.,  not  to 
look  strangely  (which  has  quite  another  meaning). 
Poreign-built  may  be  regarded  as  an  irregular  for- 
mation, occasioned  probably  by  our  having  no  such 
adverb  as  foreignly.  Even  in  home-built.,  home- 
baked.,  home-brewed.,  home-grown.,  home-made.,  etc., 
the  adverb  home  has  a  meaning  {at  home)  which  it 
never  has  when  standing  alone. 

no.  Clean  fro7n  the  purpose. — A  use  of  clean 
(for  completely)  now  come  to  be  accounted  inelegant, 
though  common  in  the  translation  of  the  Bible.  [See 
Ps.  Ixxvii.  8 ;  Isa.  xxiv.  19,  etc.]  ''^Profn  the  pur- 
pose "  is  away  from  the  purpose. 

112.  The  metre  of  this  speech  stands,  or  rather 
stumbles,  thus  in  the  original  edition  :  — 

Good  night  then,  Caska : 
This  disturbed  Skie  is  not  to  walke  in. 

II 7'  Tour  ear  is  good.,  etc.  —  The  old  copies  have 
"What  night  is  this?"  But,  notwithstanding  the 
supernumerary  short  syllable,  the  only  possible  read- 
ing seems  to  be  the  one  which  I  have  given :  "  Cas- 
eins, what  a  night  is  this  !  "  The  a  is  plainly  indis- 
pensable ;   for  surely  Casca  cannot  be  supposed  to 


190  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

ask  what  day  of  the  month  it  is.  What  he  says  can 
only  be  understood  as  an  exclamation,  similar  to  that 
of  Cinna,  in  135  :  "  What  a  fearful  night  is  this ! " 
As  foi  the  slight  irregularity  in  the  prosody,  it  is  of 
perpetual  occurrence.  ["  What  night  is  this  !  "  is 
equivalent  to  "  What  a  night,"  etc.  In  such  excla- 
mations it  was  not  unusual  to  omit  "  a  ".  Compare 
in  Two  Gent,  of  Verona^  i.  2,  — 

What  fool  is  she,  that  knows  I  am  a  maid, 
And  would  not  force  the  letter  to  mj  view ! 

and  in  Twelfth  Nighty  ii.  5,  — 

Fab.   What  dish  o'  poison  has  she  dressed  him  I 

Sir  To.   And  with  what  wing  the  staniel  checks  at  itl] 

120.  So  full  of  faults.  —  The  vford  faulty  for- 
merly, though  often  signifying  no  more  than  it  now 
does,  carried  sometimes  (as  here)  a  much  greater 
weight  of  meaning  than  we  now  attach  to  it.  Com- 
pare 143. 

120.  The  thunder-stone, — The  thunder-stone  is 
the  imaginary  product  of  the  thunder,  which  the 
ancients  called  Brontia.,  mentioned  by  Pliny  (iV.  H, 
xxxvii.  10)  as  a  species  of  gem,  and  as  that  which, 
falling  with  the  lightning,  does  the  mischief.  It  is 
the  fossil  commonly  called  the  Belemnite,  or  Finger- 
stone,  and  now  known  t©  be  a  shell.  We  still  talk 
of  the  thunder-bolt .,  which,  however,  is  commonly 
confounded  with  the  lightning.  The  thunder-stone 
was  held  to  be  quite  distinct  from  the  lightning,  as 
may  be  seen  from  the  song  of  Guiderius  and  Arvira- 
gus  in  Cymbeline^  iv.  2  :  — 

Guid.   Fear  no  more  the  lightning-flash. 
Arv.   Nor  the  all-dreaded  thunder-stone. 

It  is  also  alluded  to  in  Othello.^  v.  2  :  — 

Are  there  no  stones  in  heaveiif 
But  what  serve  for  the  thunder? 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  191 

122.  Tou  are  dull^  etc.  —  The  commencement  of 
this  speech  is  a  brilliant  specimen  of  the  blank  verse 
of  the  original  edition  :  — 

You  are  dull,  Caska  : 
And  those  sparkes  of  Life,  that  should  be  in  a  Roman, 
You  doe  want,  or  else  you  use  not. 
You  looke  pale,  and  gaze,  and  put  on  feare, 
And  cast  yourselfe  in  wonder, 
To  see,  .  .  . 

122.  Cast  yourself  in  wonder.  —  Does  this  mean 
throvj  yourself  into  a  paroxysm  of  wonder  ?  Or  may 
cast  yourself  mean  cast  your  self  or  your  mind, 
about ^  as  in  idle  conjecture?  The  commentators 
are  mute.  Shakespeare  sometimes  has  in  where  we 
should  now  use  into.  In  an  earlier  stage  of  the  lan- 
guage, the  distinction  now  established  between  in 
and  into  was  constantly  disregarded ;  and  in  some 
idiomatic  expressions,  the  radical  fibres  of  a  national 
speech,  we  still  have  in  used  to  express  what  is  com- 
monly and  regularly  expressed  by  into.  To  fall  in 
love  is  a  familiar  example.  Perhaps  we  continue  to 
say  in  love  as  marking  more  forcibly  the  opposition  to 
what  Julia  in  the  concluding  line  of  Act  IV.  of  The 
Tivo  Gentlemen  of  Verona  calls  out  of  love.  The 
expression  cast  yourself  in  wonder  seems  to  be  most 
closely  paralleled  by  another  in  Richard  III.  i.  3  : 
"  Clarence,  whom  I,  indeed,  have  cast  in  darkness,'* 
as  it  stands  in  the  First  Folio,  although  the  preceding 
Qiiartos  (of  which  there  were  five,  1597,  1598,  1602, 
161 2  or  1613,  1622)  have  all  "  laid  in  darkness."  We 
have  another  instance  of  Shakespeare's  use  of  in 
where  we  should  now  say  into  in  the  familiar  lines 
in  The  Merchant  of  Venice.,  v.  i  :  — 

How  sweet  the  moonlight  sleeps  upon  this  bankl 
Here  we  will  sit,  and  let  the  sounds  of  music 
Creep  in  our  ears. 


192  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

[Collier,  Dyce,  Hudson,  and  Staunton  have  cast. 
White  substitutes  case^  and  quotes  Much  Ado,  iv.  i : 
"  I  am  so  attired  in  wonder." 

Other  instances  of  in  for  into  are,  — 

Dost  thou  come  here  to  whine  ? 

To  outface  me  with  leaping  in  her  grave  ? 

Hamlet,  v.  i. 

And  bubbling  from  her  breast  it  doth  divide 

In  two  slow  rivers.  Lucrece,  1738. 

But  first  I'll  turn  jon  fellow  in  his  grave. 

Richard  III.  i.  2. 

See  also  Deuteron.  xxiv.  i  ;  2  Kings  ix.  25.] 
122.  Why  old  men ^  etc.  —  Blackstone's  novel  point- 
ing of  this  passage  is  ingenious :  "  Why  old  men 
fools"  {i.  e.  why  we  have  all  these  fires,  etc.,  why 
we  have  old  men  fools).  [So  Collier,  Dyce,  and 
Staunton.  White  has  ''  Why  old  men  fool,"  etc ; 
Hudson,  "  Why  old  men,  fools,  and  children,"  etc. 
I  prefer  White's  reading.]  But  the  amendment  is 
hardly  required  ;  or,  at  any  rate,  it  would  not  go  far 
to  give  us  a  perfectly  satisfactory  text.  Nor  does 
there  seem  to  be  any  necessity  for  assigning  to  calcu- 
late the  singular  sense  of  prophesy  (which  the  ex- 
pression adduced  by  Johnson,  to  calculate  a  nativ- 
ity^  is  altogether  insufficient  to  authorize).  There  is 
probably  some  corruption  ;  but  the  present  line  may 
be  very  well  understood  as  meaning  mer^y,  why  not 
only  old  men,  but  even  fools  and  children,  speculate 
upon  the  future ;  or,  still  more  simply,  why  all  per- 
sons, old  and  young,  and  the  foolish  as  well  as  the 
wise,  take  part  in  such  speculating  and  prognosticat- 
ing. Shakespeare  may  have  been  so  far  from  think- 
ing, with  Blackstone,  that  it  was  something  unnatural 
and  prodigious  for  old  men  ever  to  be  fools,  that  he 
has  even  designed  to  classify  them  with  foolish  persons 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  193 

generally,  and  with  children,  as  specially  disqualified 
for  looking  with  any  very  deep  insight  into  the  future. 
And  so  doubtless  they  are  apt  to  be,  when  very  old. 

122.  Unto  some  monstrous  state.  —  That  is,  I  sup- 
pose, some  monstrous  or  unnatural  state  of  things 
(not  some  overgrown  commonwealth). 

122.  And  roars.,  etc.  —  That  is,  roars  in  the  Cap- 
itol as  doth  the  lion.  Many  readers,  I  believe,  infer 
from  this  passage  that  Caesar  is  compared  by  Cas- 
sius  to  some  live  lion  that  was  kept  in  the  Capitol^ 
Oi^-perhaps  it  may  be  sometimes  imagined  that  he 
alludes  to  the  same  lion  which  Casca  (though  not  in 
his  hearing)  has  just  been  telling  Cicero  that  he  had 
met  "  against  the  Capitol."  The  Second  and  two 
following  Folios  have  tears  for  roars. 

122.  No  mightier  than  thyself.,  or  me.  —  Of 
course,  in  strict  grammar  it  should  be  than  I.  But 
the  personal  pronouns  must  be  held  to  be,  in  some 
measure,  emancipated  from  the  dominion  or  tyranny 
of  syntax.     Who  would  rectify  even  Shelley's  bold 

lest  there  be 
No  solace  left  for  thou  and  me  ? 

[And  who  would  venture  to  imitate  it?]  The  gram- 
matical law  has  so  slight  a  hold  that  a  mere  point 
of  euphony  is  deemed  sufficient  to  justify  the  neglect 
of  it. 

As  we  have  me  for  /  in  the  present  passage,  we 
have  /  for  me  in  Antonio's  "  All  debts  are  cleared 
between  you  and  I"  (^Merchant  of  Venice^  iii.  2). 

132.  \^Prodigious  grown.  —  That  is,  portentous  ; 
as  in  the  other  cases  in  which  Shakespeare  uses  the 
word,  except  where  Launce  {Two  Gent,  of  Ver. 
ii.  3)  speaks  of  "  the  prodigious  son."] 

124.  I^et  it  be  who  it  is.  —  Not  who  it  maybe; 
Cassius,  in  his  present  mood,  is  above  that  subterfuge. 
13 


194  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

While  he  abstains  from  pronouncing  the  name,  he 
will  not  allow  it  to  be  supposed  that  there  is  any 
doubt  about  the  actual  existence  of  the  man  he  has 
been  describing. 

124.  Thews  and  limbs.  —  \^Thews  here  means 
muscular  powers,  as  in  the  only  other  two  instances 
in  which  Shakespeare  uses  the  word.  '^  Care  I,**  says 
Falstaff,  in  the  Second  Part  of  King  Henry  IV,  iii. 
2,  "  for  the  limb,  the  thews^  the  stature,  bulk,  and 
big  assemblance  of  a  man  ?  Give  me  the  spirit,  Mas- 
ter Shallow."     So  Laertes,  in  Hamlet^  i.  3,  — 

For  nature,  crescent,  does  not  grow  alone 
In  the-ws  and  bulk ;  but,  as  this  temple  waxes, 
The  inward  service  of  the  mind  and  soul 
Grows  wide  withal. 

The  word  is  from  the  Saxon  theow  or  tkeoh, 
whence  also  thigh^  and  must  not  be  confounded 
with  the  obsolete  M^W5=  manners,  or  qualities  of 
mind,  which  is  from  the  Saxon  theaw.  This  latter 
thews  is  common  in  Spenser,  Chaucer,  and  earlier 
writers  ;  the  former  is  found  very  rarely  before 
Shakespeare's  day.  George  Turbervile,  in  his  trans- 
lation of  Ovid's  Epistles.^  first  printed  in  1567,  has 
"  the  thews  of  Helen's  passing  [that  is,  surpassing] 
form."  In  the  earlier  version  of  Layamon's  Brut^ 
also,  which  belongs  to  the  end  of  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury, we  have  in  one  place  (verse  6361),  "  Monnene 
strengest  of  maine  and  of  theatve  of  alle  thissere 
theode  "  (of  men  strongest  of  main,  or  strength,  and 
of  sinew,  of  all  this  land).  But  Sir  Frederick  Mad- 
den remarks  (III.  471),  "This  is  the  only  instance 
in  the  poem  of  the  word  being  applied  to  bodily 
qualities,  nor  has  any  other  passage  of  an  earlier 
date  than  the  sixteenth  century  been  found  in  which 
it  is  so  used."] 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  195 

124.  But^  woe  the  while  I  —  This,  I  believe,  is 
commonly  understood  to  mean,  alas  for  the  present 
time  ;  but  may  not  the  meaning,  here  at  least,  rather 
be,  alas  for  what  hath  come  to  pass  in  the  mean 
while,  or  in  the  interval  that  has  elapsed  since  the 
better  days  of  our  heroic  ancestors? 

1 24.  And  we  are  governed  with.  —  We  now  com- 
monly employ  by  to  denote  agency  and  with  where 
there  is  only  instrumentality  ;  but  that  distinction 
was  not  formerly  so  fully  established,  and  with  was 
used  more  frequently  than  it  is  with  us.  Shake- 
speare even  has  {Rich.  II.  iii.  2),  "I  live  w//-^ bread 
like  you,  feel  want,  taste  grief."  [He  has  also  "  at- 
tended with  a  desperate  train,"  in  Lear^  ii.  4 ;  and 
Bacon,  too,  has  "  attended  with  Callisthenes,"  in  the 
Adv.  of  Learning .^  i.  2,  §  11.] 

126.  /  know  where  I  will  wear  this  dagger^ 
then.  —  The  true  meaning  of  this  line  is  ruined  by 
its  being  printed,  as  it  is  in  the  old,  and  also  in  most 
of  the  modern  editions,  without  the  comma.  [Col- 
lier, Hudson,  and  White  have  the  comma  ;  Dyc^has 
not.]  Cassius  does  not  intend  to  be  understood  as 
intimating  that  he  is  prepared  to  plunge  his  dagger 
into  his  heart  at  that  time.,  but  in  that  case. 

126.  Can  be  retentive  to.  —  Can  retain  or  confine 
the  spirit. 

1 26.  If  I  know  this.  etc.  —  The  logical  connection 
of  "  If  I  know  this  "  is  with  "  That  part  of  tyranny, 
etc. ;  but  there  is  also  a  rhetorical  connection  with 
"  Know  all  the  world  besides."  As  if  he  had  said, 
"  Knowing  this,  I  can  shake  off,  etc. ;  and,  I  know- 
ing this,  let  all  others  too  know  and  beware  that 
I  can,"  etc. 

1 27.  The  power  to  cancel^  etc.  —  Here  we  have 
power  reduced  to  a  monosyllable,  although  it  had 


196  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

been  employed  as  a  dissyllable  only  five  lines  be- 
fore—  "  Never  lacks  power,"  etc. 

128.  He  were  no  lion^  etc.  —  His  imagination  is 
still  filled  W\\ki  the  image  hy  which  he  has  already 
pictured  the  tyranny  of  the  Dictator  ;  —  "  roars,  as 
doth  the  lion,  in  the  Capitol."  —  Hind^  a  she  stag, 
is  correctly  formed  from  the  Saxon  hinde^  of  the 
same^  meaning ;  our  other  hind^  a  peasant,  was 
originally  hine  and  hina^  and  has  taken  the  d  only 
for  the  sake  of  a  fuller  or  firmer  enunciation.  It 
may  be  noted,  however,  that,  although  there  is  a 
natural  tendency  in  certain  syllables  to  seek  this 
addition  of  breadth  or  strength,  it  is  most  apt  to 
operate  when  it  is  aided,  as  here,  by  the  existence  of 
some  other  word  or  form  to  which  the  d  properly 
belongs.  Thus,  soun  (from  so7zner  and  sond)  has 
probably  been  the  more  easily  converted  into  sound 
from  having  become  confounded  in  the  popular  ear 
and  understanding  with  the  adjective  sound  and  the 
verb  to  sounds  meaning  to  search ;  and  such  obso- 
lete or  dialectic  forms  as  drownd  and  swound  (for 
drown  and  swoon)  may  be  supposed  to  have  been 
the  more  readily  produced  through  the  misleading 
influence  of  the  parts  of  the  verb  which  actually  and 
properly  end  in  d  or  ed.  As  we  have  confounded 
the  old  hinde  and  hine^  so  we  have  also  the  Saxon 
heord^  meaning  a  flock  or  crowd  (the  modern  Ger- 
man heerde)^  with  hyrde^  meaning  a  keeper  or 
tender  (the  modern  German  hir£)  ;  our  one  form 
for  both  being  now  herd. 

1 28.  My  answer  must  be  made.  —  I  must  answer 
for  what  I  have  said. 

129.  To  such  a  man^  That  is^  etc.  —  See  57. — 
Tojleer  {orjlear,  as  is  the  old  spelling)  is  to  mock, 
or  laugh  at.     The  word  appears  to  have  come  to  us 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  197 

from  the  Norse  or  Scandinavian  branch  of  the 
Gothic,  —  one  of  the  sources  of  our  English  tongue 
which  recent  philology  has  almost  abjured,  although, 
besides  all  else,  we  owe  to  it  even  forms  of  such 
perpetual  occurrence  as  the  are  of  the  substantive 
verb  and  the  ordinary  sign  of  our  modern  genitive 
(for  such  a  use  of  the  preposition  of^  common  to  u» 
with  the  Swedish,  is  unknown  to  the  classical  Eng- 
lish of  the  times  before  the  Norman  Conquest, 
although  we  have  it  in  full  activity,  probably  adopted 
from  the  popular  speech  of  the  northern  counties, 
in  the  written  language  of  the  twelfth  centmy). 

129.  Hold^  7ny  hand.  —  That  is,  Have,  receive, 
take  hold  (of  it)  ;  there  is  my  hand.  The  comma 
is  distinctly  marked  in  the  early  editions.  [Staunton 
omits  it.] 

129.  Be  factious  for  redress  of  all  these  griefs.  — 
Yi^xQ,  factious  seems  to  mean  nothing  more  than 
active  or  urgent,  although  everywhere  else,  I  believe, 
in  Shakespeare  the  word  is  used  in  the  same  disrep- 
utable sense  which  it  has  at  present.  Griefs  (the 
form  still  used  in  the  French  language,  and  retained 
in  our  own  with  another  meaning)  is  his  by  far  more 
common  word  for  what  we  now  call  grievances^ 
although  he  has  that  form  too  occasionally  (which 
Milton  nowhere  employs).     See  435. 

130.  To  undergo^  with  me^  a7i  enterprise.  — We 
should  now  rather  say  to  undertake  where  there  is 
anything  to  be  done. 

130.  Of  honorable-dangerous. — These  two  words 
were  probably  intended  to  make  a  compound  adjec- 
tive, although  the  hyphen  with  which  they  are  con- 
nected by  most  of  the  modern  editors  is  not  in  the 
oldest  printed  text.  The  language  does  not  now,  at 
least  in  serious  composition,  indulge  in  compounds 


198  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

of  this  description.     Shakespeare,  however,  has  ap- 
parently several  such.     Thus  :  — 

More  active-valiant,  or  more  valiant-young. 
I  He7t.  IV.  V.  I. 

But  pardon  me,  I  am  too  sudden-bold. 

Love's  Lab.  Lost,  ii.  i. 

More  fertile-fresh  than  all  the  field  to  see. 

Mer.  W.  of  Wind.  v.  5. 

So  full  of  shapes  is  fancy, 
That  it  alone  is  high-fantastical. 

T-welftk  Night,  i.  i. 

130.  By  this  they  stay  for  me.  —  That  is,  by  this 
time.  And  it  is  a  mode  of  expression  which,  like  so 
many  others  which  the  language  once  possessed,  we 
have  now  lost.  Yet  we  still  say,  in  the  same  sense, 
ere  this.,  before  this^  after  this.,  the  preposition  in 
these  phrases  being  felt  to  be  suggestive  of  the  notion 
of  time  in  a  way  that  by  is  not. 

130.  There  is  no  ,  .  .  walking.  —  In  another 
connection  this  might  mean,  that  there  was  no  pos- 
sibility of  walking ;  but  here  the  meaning  apparently 
is  that  there  was  no  walking  going  on. 

130.  The  complexion  of  the  element.  —  That  is, 
of  the  heaven,  of  the  sky.  North,  in  his  Plutarch^ 
speaks  of  "  the  fires  in  the  element."  The  word  in 
this  sense  was  much  in  favor  with  the  fine  writers  or 
talkers  of  Shakespeare's  day.  He  has  a  hit  at  the 
affectation  in  his  Twelfth  Night.,  iii.  i,  where  the 
Clown,  conversing  with  Viola,  says,  "  Who  you  are, 
and  what  you  would,  are  out  of  my  welkin  :  I  might 
say,  element:  but  the  word  is  over-worn."  Of 
course,  welkin  is,  and  is  intended  to  be,  far  more 
absurd.  Yet  we  have  element  for  the  sky  or  the  air 
in  other  passages  besides  the  present.     Thus :  — 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  199 

The  element  itself,  ... 

Shall  not  behold  her  face  at  ample  view. 

Twelfth  Night,  i.  i. 

"  I,  in  the  clear  sky  of  fame,  o'ershine  you  as  much 
as  the  full  moon  doth  the  cinders  of  the  element, 
which  show  like  pins'  heads  to  her  "  {^Falstaff^  in  2 
Hen.  IV.  iv.  3). 

It  is  curious  to  find  writers  of  the  present  day  who 
are  scrupulous  about  the  more  delicate  proprieties 
of  expression  still  echoing  Shakespeare's  dissatisfac- 
tion :  "  The  territorial  element^  to  use  that  favorite 
word,"  says  Hallam,  Mid.  Ages^  I.  297  {edit,  of 
1855),  probably  without  any  thought  of  the  remark 
of  the  all-observing  dramatist  two  centuries  and  a 
half  before. 

130.  Infavouf^s  like  the  work.  —  The  reading  in 
all  the  Folios  is,  "  Is  favors"  (or  "  favours"  for  the 
Third  and  Fourth).  The  present  reading,  which  is 
that  generally  adopted,  was  first  proposed  by  John- 
son ;  and  it  has  the  support,  it  seems,  of  Mr.  Collier's 
MS.  annotator.  [It  is  adopted  by  Dyce,  Hudson, 
and  White.]  Favour  (see  54)  means  aspect,  ap- 
pearance, features.  Another  emendation  that  has 
been  proposed  (by  Steevens)  is,  "  Is  favoured."  But 
to  say  that  the  complexion  of  a  thing  is  either  fea- 
tured like,  or  in  feature  like,  to  something  else  is  very 
like  a  tautology.  I  should  be  strongly  inclined  to 
adopt  Reed's  ingenious  conjecture,  "  Is  feverous," 
which  he  supports  by  quoting  from  Macbeth.,  ii.  3  : 
"  Some  say  the  earth  Was  feverous  and  did  shake." 
So  also  in  Coriolanus.,  i.  4 :  "  Thou  mad'st  thine 
enemies  shake,  as  if  the  world  Were  feverous  and 
did  tremble."  Feverous  is  exactly  the  sort  of  word 
that,  if  not  very  distinctly  written,  would  be  apt  to 
puzzle  and  be  mistaken  by  a  compositor.     It  may 


200  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

perhaps  count,  too,  for  something,  though  not  very 
much,  against  both  "favour's  like"  and  "favoured 
like  "  that  a  very  decided  comma  separates  the  two 
w^ords  in  the  original  edition. 

134.  One  incorporate  To  our  attempts.  —  One 
of  our  body,  one  united  w^ith  us  in  our  enterprise. 
The  expression  has  probably  no  more  emphatic  im- 
port. 

135.  There^s  two  or  three,  —  The  contraction 
there's  is  still  used  indifferently  with  a  singular  or  a 
plural ;  though  there  is  scarcely  would  te.  [On  / 
am  glad  on't^  see  50.] 

136.  Am  I  not  staid  for  ?  —  This  is  the  original 
reading,  which  has  been  restored  by  Mr.  Knight. 
The  common  modern  reading  is,  "  Am  I  not  staid 
for,  Cinna  ?  "  the  last  word  being  inserted  (and  that 
without  notice,  which  is  unpardonable)  only  to  sat- 
isfy the  supposed  demands  of  the  prosody. 

137.  This  speech  stands  thus  in  the  First  Folio  :  — 

Yes,  you  are.     O  Cassius, 
If  you  could  but  winne  the  Noble  Brutus 
To  our  party  —  . 

The  common  metrical  arrangement  [which  Hudson 
follows]  is,  — 

Yes, 

You  are.     O  Cassius,  if  you  could  but  win 

The  noble  Brutus  to  our  party. 

No  person  either  having  or  believing  himself  to  have 
a  true  feeling  of  the  Shakespearian  rhythm  can  be- 
lieve this  to  be  right.  Nor  am  I  better  satisfied  with 
Mr.  Knight's  distribution  of  the  lines,  although  it  is 
adopted  by  Mr.  Collier :  — 

Yes,  you  are. 
O,  Cassius,  if  you  could  but  win  the  noble  Brutus 
To  our  party ;  — 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  201 

which  gives  us  an  extended  line  equally  unmusical 
and  undignified  whether  read  rapidly  or  slowly, 
followed  (to  make  matters  worse  which  were  bad 
enough  already)  by  what  could  scarcely  make  the 
commencement  of  any  kind  of  line.  I  cannot  doubt 
that,  whatever  we  are  to  do  with  "Yes,  you  are,"  — 
whether  we  make  these  comparatively  unimportant 
words  the  comjDletion  of  the  line  of  which  Cassius's 
question  forms  the  beginning,  or  take  them  along 
with  what  follows,  which  would  give  us  a  line  want- 
ing only  the  first  syllable  (and  deriving,  perhaps, 
from  that  mutilation  an  abruptness  suitable  to  the 
occasion) ,  —  the  close  of  the  rhythmic  flow  must  be  as 
I  have  given  it :  — 

O  Cassius,  if  you  could 
But  win  the  noble  Brutus  to  our  party. 

[Collier,  Dyce,  and  Staunton  adopt  Craik's  ar- 
rangement. White  follows  Knight,  but  suspects  that 
the  passage  is  corrupt.] 

138.  Where  Brutus  may  but  find  it,  —  If  but  be 
the  true  word  (and  be  not  a  misprint  for  best)^  the 
meaning  must  be.  Be  sure  you  lay  it  in.  the  praetor's 
chair,  07ily  taking  care  to  place  it  so  that  Brutus  may 
be  sure  to  find  it. 

138.  Upon  old  Brutus^  statue.  —  Lucius  Brutus, 
who  expelled  the  Tarquins,  the  reputed  ancestor  of 
Marcus  Lucius  Brutus  ;  also  alluded  to  in  ^6t^  "  There 
was  a  Brutus  once,"  etc. 

139.  I  will  hie. —  To  hie  (meaning  to  hasten)  is 
used  reflectively,  as  well  as  intransitively,  but  not 
otherwise  as  an  active  verb. 

139.  And  so  bestow  these  papers.  — This  use  of 
bestow  (for  to  place,  or  dispose  of)  is  now  gone  out ; 
though  something  of  it  still  remains  in  stow.  [Com- 
pare 2  Kings  V.  24;  Luke  xii.  17,  18.] 


202  Philological  Commentary.       [act  i. 

140.  Pomfey's  theatre.  —  The  same  famous  struc- 
ture of  Pompey's,  opened  with  shows  and  games  of 
unparalleled  cost  and  magnificence  some  ten  or 
twelve  years  before  the  present  date,  which  has  been 
alluded  to  in  130  and  138. 

143.  Tou  have  right  well  conceited.  —  To  conceit 
is  another  form  of  our  still  familiar  to  conceive.  And 
the  noun  conceit^  which  survives  with  a  limited 
meaning  (the  conception  of  a  man  by  himself,  which 
is  so  apt  to  be  one  of  over-estimation),  is  also  fre- 
quent in  Shakespeare  with  the  sense,  nearly,  of  what 
we  now  call  conception.,  in  general.  So  in  348. 
Sometimes  it  is  used  in  a  sense  which  might  almost 
be  said  to  be  the  opposite  of  what  it  now  means ;  as 
when  Juliet  (in  Romeo  and  Juliet^  ii.  5)  employs  it 
as  the  term  to  denote  her  all-absorbing  affection  for 
Romeo :  — 

Conceit,  more  rich  in  matter  than  in  words, 
Brags  of  his  substance,  not  of  ornament: 
They  are  but  beggars  that  can  count  their  worth ; 
But  my  true  love  is  grown  to  such  excess, 
I  cannot  sum  the  sum  of  half  my  wealth. 

Or  as  when  Gratiano,  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice^ 
i.  I,  speaks  of  a  sort  of  men  who 

do  a  wilful  stillness  entertain, 
With  purpose  to  be  dressed  in  an  opinion 
Of  wisdom,  gravity,  profound  conceit  — 

that  is,  deep  thought. 

So,  again,  when  Rosaline,  in  Love's  Labour's 
Lost^  ii.  I,  speaking  of  Biron,  describes  his  "fair 
tongue  "  as  "  conceit's  expositor,"  all  that  she  means 
is,  that  speech  is  the  expounder  of  thought.  The 
scriptural  expression,  still  in  familiar  use,  "  wise  in 
his  own  conceit,"  means  merely  wise  in  his  own 
thought,  or  in  his  own  eyes,  as  we  are  told  in  the 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  3053 

margin  the  Hebrew  literally  signifies.  In  the  New 
Testament,  where  we  have  "  in  their  own  conceits," 
the  Greek  is  simply  <nrap'  kavToT^  (in  or  with  them- 
selves). 

ACT  II. 

Scene  I.  —  The  heading  here  in  the  Folios  (in 
which  there  is  no  division  into  Scenes)  is  merely, 
''''Enter  Brutus  in  his  Orchard^  Assuming  that 
Brutus  was  probably  not  possessed  of  what  we  now 
call  distinctively  an  orchard  (which  may  have  been 
the  case),  the  modern  editors  of  the  earlier  part  of 
the  last  century  took  upon  them  to  change  Orchard 
into  Garden.  But  this  is  to  carry  the  work  of  rec- 
tification (even  if  we  should  admit  it  to  be  such) 
beyond  what  is  warrantable.  To  deprive  Brutus  in 
this  way  of  his  orchard  was  to  mutilate  or  alter 
Shakespeare's  conception.  It  is  probable  that  the 
words  Orchard  and  Garden  were  commonly  under- 
stood in  the  early  part  of  the  seventeenth  century  in 
the  senses  which  they  now  bear  ;  but  there  is  nothing 
in  their  etymology  to  support  the  manner  in  which 
they  have  come  to  be  distinguished.  In  Much  Ado 
About  Nothing-^  ii.  3,  although  the  scene  is  headed 
'''' Leonatd s  Garden^"  Benedick,  sending  the  Boy  for 
a  book  from  his  chamber-window,  says,  "  Bring  it 
hither  to  me  in  the  orchard."  A  Garden  {or  yard^ 
as  it  is  still  called  in  Scotland)  means  merely  a  piece 
of  ground  girded  in  or  enclosed  ;  and  an  Orchard 
(properly  Ortyard)  is,  literally,  such  an  enclosure 
for  ivorts^  or  herbs.  At  one  time  Orchard  used  to 
be  written  Horlyard^  under  the  mistaken  notion  that 
it  was  derived  from  hortus  (which  may,  however, 
be  of  the  same  stock). 


204  Philological  Commentary,     [act  ii. 

143.  How  near  to  day.  —  How  near  it  may  be  to 
the  day. 

143.  I  would  it  were  my  fault.  —  Compare  the 
use  oi fault  here  with  its  sense  in  120, 

143.  Whejz^  JLucius?  when?  —  This  exclamation 
had  not  formerly  the  high  tragic  or  heroic  sound 
which  it  would  now  have.  It  was  merely  a  cus- 
tomary way  of  calling  impatiently  to  one  who  had 
not  obeyed  a  previous  summons.  vSo  in  Richard 
II.  (i.  2)  John  of  Gaunt  calls  to  his  son,  ''  When, 
Harry?  when?  Obedience  bids,  I  should  not  bid 
again." 

147.  But  for  the  general.  —  The  general  was 
formerly  a  common  expression  for  what  we  now 
call  the  community  or  the  people.  Thus  Angelo  in 
Measure  for  Measure.,  ii.  4  :  — 

The  general,  subject  to  a  well-wished  king, 
Quit  their  own  part,  and  in  obsequious  fondness 
Crowd  to  his  presence. 

147.  And  that  craves. — It  might  be  questioned 
whether  that  here  be  the  demonstrative  (as  it  is 
commonly  considered)  or  the  relative  (to  the  ante- 
cedent "  the  bright  day  "). 

147.  Crown  him?  That.  —  Here  the  emphatic 
that  appears  to  be  used  exactly  as  so  often  is.  See 
^^.  Either,  or  any  equivalent  term,  thus  used,  might 
obviously  serve  very  well  for  the  sign  of  affirmation  ; 
in  the  present  passage  we  might  substitute  yes  for 
that  with  the  same  effect.  It  used  to  be  held  that 
the  French  oui.,  anciently  oyl^  was  merely  the  ill  of 
the  classic  ill-e.,  ill-a^  ilUud.,  and  that  the  old  Pro- 
venyal  oc  was  hoc.  It  appears,  however,  that  oui  or 
oyl  is  really  voul  {ox  je  voul)^  the  old  present  of 
vouloir.  The  common  word  ior yes  in  Italian,  again, 
si  (not  unknown  in  the  same  sense  to  the  French 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C-^sar.  205' 

tongue),  may  be  another  form  of  so.  The  three  lan- 
guages used  to  be  distinguished  as  the  Langue  d'  Oyl 
(or  Lmgua  Oytana)^  the  Langue  d'  Ck:  (or  Lingua 
Occita7ia)^  and  the  Lingua  di  Si.  The  pointing  in 
the  First  FoHo  here  is,  "  Crowne  him  that,  And 
then,"  etc.  [Littre  {Hist,  de  la  Lafzgue  Fra^igaise^ 
1863,  vol.  i.  p.  155)  derives  oui  from  hoc-illud.  He 
says  that  there  is  no  dispute  in  regard  to  the  origin 
of  the  -//  of  the  old  form  oil^  but  only  in  regard  to 
the  0-,  which  Reynouard  and  most  others  believe  to  be 
the  Latin  hoc.  Burguy  argues  that  it  is  the  old  Cel- 
tic preposition  d  =:  ab^  de^  ex^  w^hich  is  sometimes 
used  as  a  conjunction,  =:  ex  quo^  and  sometimes  as 
an  adverb ;  but  Littre  proves  very  clearly,  I  think, 
that  he  is  wrong.  Chevallet  {Origlne  et  Forma- 
lion  de  la  Lang.  Fr.^  vol.  iii.  p.  310  foil.)  says 
thatc*//  or  oil  is  an  elliptical  expression  for  o  {z=l  hoc) 
est  il=zcest  cela:  oil  became  ouil  and  finally  02//. 
Diez  {Etymol.  Worterb.)  also  makes  oui  ■=.  hoc- 
illud.,  and  Scheler  {Diet,  d' Etyinologie  Frangaise* 
1862)  says  that  this  derivation,  though  it  has  been 
vehemently  disputed,  cannot  be  overthrown  J 

147.  Do  danger.  —  [The  history  of  the  word 
danger  is  curious  and  instructive.  Damnum  in 
Medieval  Latin  signified  a  legal  fine  or  "  damages." 
It  was  thence  applied  to  the  limits  within  which  a 
lord  could  exact  such  fines,  and  so  to  the  enclosed 
field  of  a  proprietor.  In  this  sense  the  word  was 
often  rendered  do?nmage^  dommaige^  or  damage^  in 
French.  It  next  acquired  the  sense  of  trespass,  as 
in  the  legal  phrase  damage  feasant.,  whence  the 
French  damager.,  to  seize  cattle  found  in  trespass. 
From  this  verb  came  the  abstract  domigerium.,  sig- 
nifying the  power  of  exacting  a  dafnnum  or  fine  for 
trespass.     From  domigerium  to  danger  the  transi- 


2o6  Philological  Commentary,     [act  ii. 

tion  was  natural,  and  the  latter  was  equally  applied 
to  the  right  of  exacting  a  fine  for  breach  of  territorial 
rights,  or  to  the  fine,  or  to  the  rights  themselves.  To 
be  in  the  danger  of  any  one,  estre  en  son  danger^ 
came  to  signify  to  be  in  his  power,  or  liable  to  a 
penalty  to  be  inflicted  by  him  or  at  his  suit,  and  hence 
the  ordinary  meaning  of  the  word  at  the  present  day. 
We  have,  in  the  Mercha^it  of  Venice^  iv.  i, — 

You  stand  -within  his  danger^  do  you  not? 

From  the  meaning  of  penalty  or  fine,  danger  came 
to  signify  the  license  obtained  to  secure  exemption 
from  such  penalty,  or  the  price  paid  for  such  license  ; 
and  thence  the  difficulties  about  giving  permission  or 
complying  with  a  request,  or  absolute  refusal.  For 
a  fuller  history  of  the  word,  and  for  passages  illus- 
trating its  changes  of  meaning,  see  Wedgwood. 
The  Bible  Word-Book  gives  a  few  additional  pas- 
sages.] 

147.  The  abuse  of  greatness  is^  etc.  —  The  mean- 
ing apparently  is,  ''  The  abuse  to  which  greatness  is 
most  subject  is  when  it  deadens  in  its  possessor  the 
natural  sense  of  humanity,  or  of  that  which  binds  us 
to  our  kind ;  and  this  I  do  not  say  that  it  has  yet 
done  in  the  case  of  Caesar  ;  I  have  never  known  that 
in  him  selfish  affection,  or  mere  passion,  has  carried 
it  over  reason."  Remorse  is  generally  used  by 
Shakespeare  in  a  wider  sense  than  that  to  which  it 
is  now  restricted. 

147.  But  'tis  a  common  proof  —  A  thing  com- 
monly proved  or  experienced  (what  commonly,  as 
we  should  say,  proves  to  be  the  case). 

A  frequent  word  with  Shakespeare  for  to  prove 
is  to  approve.  Thus,  in  the  Two  Gentlemen  of 
Verona^  v.  4,  we  have, — 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  207 

O,  'tis  the  curse  in  love,  and  still  approved, 
When  viromen  cannot  love  where  they're  beloved. 

So,  in  Much  Ado  About  Nothings  we  have,  in  iv. 
I,  "an  approved  w^anton,"  and  afterwards  "Is  he 
not  approved  in  the  height  a  villain  ?  "  When  Don 
Pedro  in  the  same  Play,  ii.  i,  describes  Benedick  as 
"  of  approved  valour,"  the  meaning  is  merely,  that 
he  had  proved  his  valor  by  his  conduct.  So  in 
Hamlet^  i.  i,  Marcellus  says,  speaking  of  Horatio 
and  the  Ghost,  — 

I  have  entreated  him  along 
With  us  to  watch  the  minutes  of  this  night, 
That,  if  again  this  apparition  come. 
He  may  approve  our  eyes,  and  speak  to  it; 

that  is,  prove  our  eyes  true.  And  in  Meas.  for 
Meas,  i.  3,  Claudio  says,  — 

This  day  my  sister  should  the  cloister  enter, 
And  there  receive  her  approbation  — 

for  what  we  now  call  probation.  This  sense  of  the 
word  (which  we  still  retain  in  the  law-term  an 
approver^  in  Latin  probator)  occurs  repeatedly  both 
in  the  Bible  and  in  Milton,  and  in  fact  is  the  most 
common  sense  which  it  has  in  our  earlier  English. 
\_Approve  is  used  in  the  New  Testament  in  two 
senses:  i.  To  prove,  demonstrate;  Acts  ii.  22; 
2  Cor,  vi.  4,  vii.  11.  Compare  '•'•approve  it  with 
a  text"  in  Mer.  of  Venice^  iii.  2.  —  2.  To  put  to 
the  proof,  test,  try ;  Rom.  ii.  18 ;  Phil.  i.  10.  So 
in  ist  Henry  IV.  iv.  i, — 

Nay,  task  me  to  the  word,  approve  me,  lord.] 

147.  Whereto  the  climber  upward.,  etc.  —  There 
is  no  hyphen  in  the  original  text  connecting  clitnber 
and  upward^  as  there  is  in  some  modern  editions ; 
but  any  doubt  as  to  whether  the  adverb  should  be 


2o8  Philological  Commentary,      [act  ii. 

taken  along  with  clifnber  or  with  turns  might  be 
held  to  be  determined  by  the  expression  in  Macbeth^ 
iv.  2  :  "  Things  at  the  worst  will  cease,  or  else  climb 
upw^ards  To  what  they  were  before." 

147.  The  upmost  round.  —  The  step  of  a  ladder 
has  come  to  be  called  a  rounds  I  suppose,  from  its 
being  usually  cylindrically  shaped.  Mr.  Knight 
(whose  collation  of  the  old  copies  is  in  general  so 
remarkably  careful)  has  here  (probably  by  a  typo- 
graphical error)  utmost. 

147.  The  base  degrees.  —  The  lower  steps  of  the 
ladder  —  les  bas  degres  (from  the  \^2i'i\w  gradus)  of 
the  French.  The  epithet  base^  however,  must  be 
understood  to  express  something  of  contempt,  as  well 
as  to  designate  the  position  of  the  steps. 

147.  Then^  lest  he  may^  prevent.  —  We  should  not 
now  say  to  prevent  lest.  But  the  word  prevent  con- 
tinued to  convey  its  original  import  of  to  come  before 
more  distinctly  in  Shakespeare's  day  than  it  does  now. 
See  161  and  708. 

147.  Will  bear  no  colour  for  the  thing  he  is.  — 
Will  take  no  appearance  of  being  a  just  quarrel,  if 
professedly  founded  upon  what  Caesar  at  present 
actually  is.  The  use  of  color^  and  colorable.,  in  this 
sense  is  still  familiar. 

147.  What  he  is-,  augmented.  —  What  he  now  is, 
if  augmented  or  heightened  (as  it  is  the  nature  of 
things  that  it  should  be). 

147.  Would  run  to  these.,  etc.  —  To  such  and  such 
extremities  (which  we  must  suppose  to  be  stated  and 
explained).     See  109. 

147.  Think  him  as.  —  The  verb  to  think  has  now 
lost  this  sense,  though  we  might  still  say  "  Think 
him  a  serpent's  ^zz'^  "  Think  him  good  or  wicked," 
and  also  "  To  think  a  good  or  evil  thought." 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  209 

147.  As  his  kind,  —  Like  his  species. 

147.  And  kill  him  in  the  shell.  —  It  is  impossible 
not  to  feel  the  expressive  effect  of  the  hemistich  here. 
The  line  itself  is,  as  it  were,  killed  in  the  shell. 

148.  This  speech  is  headed  in  the  Folios  "  Enter 
Lucius''  The  old  stage  direction,  '-^ Gives  him  the 
Letter^'  is  omitted  by  most  of  the  modern  editors. 

149.  The  ides  of  March.  —  The  reading  of  all 
the  ancient  copies  is,  "  ikio.  first  of  March."  It  was 
Theobald  who  first  made  the  correction,  which  has 
been  adopted  by  all  succeeding  editors  (on  the  ground 
that  the  day  was  actually  that  of  the  ides).  At  the 
same  time,  it  does  not  seem  to  be  impossible  that  the 
poet  may  have  intended  to  present  a  strong  image 
of  the  absorption  of  Brutus  by  making  him  forget  the 
true  time  of  the  month.  The  reply  of  Lucius  after 
consulting  the  Calendar  = — "Sir,  March  is  wasted 
fourteen  days" — sounds  very  much  as  if  he  were 
correcting  rather  than  confirming  his  master's  notion. 
Against  this  view  we  have  the  considerations  stated 
by  Warburton :  "  We  can  never  suppose  the  speak- 
er to  have  lost  fourteen  days  in  his  account.  He  is 
here  plainly  ruminating  on  what  the  Soothsayer  told 
Caesar  (i.  2)  in  his  presence  {Beware  the  ides  of 
March)."  Mr.  Collier  also  prints  "the  ides;"  but 
the  correction  does  not  appear  to  be  made  by  his  MS. 
annotator.  Mr.  Knight,  I  apprehend,  must  be  in 
error  in  saying  that  Shakespeare  found  "  thQ  first  of 
March  "  in  North's  Plutarch :  the  present  incident 
is  not  related  by  Plutarch.  [Knight  may  have  re- 
ferred to  this  passage  in  North's  Plutarch  {Life  of 
Brutus)  :  "  Cassius  did  first  of  all  speak  to  Brutus, 
and  asked  him  if  he  were  determined  to  be  in  the 
senate-house,  the  first  day  of  the  month  of  March^ 
because  he  heard  say  that  Cassar's  friends  should 

H 


2IO  Philological  Commentary,      [act  ii. 

move  the  Council  that  day  that  Caesar  should  be 
called  king  by  the  senate,"  etc.] 

153.  Brutus^  thou  sleefst;  awake.  —  I  have  en- 
deavored to  indicate  by  the  printing  that  the  second 
enunciation  of  these  words  is  a  repetition  by  Brutus 
to  himself,  and  not,  as  it  is  always  made  to  appear,  a 
further  portion  of  the  letter.  [Collier  agrees  with 
Craik  ;  Dyce,  Hudson,  and  White  do  not.]  The  let- 
ter unquestionably  concluded  with  the  emphatic  adju- 
ration, "  Speak,  strike,  redress  !  "  It  never,  after  this, 
would  have  proceeded  to  go  over  the  ground  again 
in  the  same  words  that  had  been  already  used.  They 
would  have  only  impaired  the  effect,  and  would  have 
been  quite  inappropriate  in  their  new  place.  We 
see  how  the  speaker  afterwards  repeats  in  the  like 
manner  each  of  the  other  clauses  before  commenting 
upon  it. 

153.    Where  I  have  took,  —  See  46. 

153.  Speak^  strike^  redress  I  —  Am  I  entreated^ 
etc.  —  The  expression  is  certainly  not  strengthened 
by  the  then  which  was  added  to  these  words  by 
Hanmer,  in  the  notion  that  it  was  required  by  the 
prosody,  and  has  been  retained  by  Steevens  and  other 
modern  editors.  At  the  same  time  Mr.  Knight's 
doctrine,  that  "  a  pause,  such  as  must  be  made  after 
redress^  stands  in  the  place  of  a  syllable,"  will,  at 
any  rate,  not  do  here  ;  for  we  should  want  two  sylla- 
bles after  redress.  The  best  way  is  to  regard  the 
supposed  line  as  being  in  reality  two  hemistichs ;  or 
to  treat  the  words  repeated  from  the  letter  as  no  part 
of  the  verse.  How  otherwise  are  we  to  manage  the 
preceding  quotation,  "  Shall   Rome,   etc."  ?     [See 

153.  I  make  thee  promise.  —  I  make  proiiiise  to 
thee.     In  another  connection,  the  words  might  mean 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  211 

I  make  thee  to  promise.  The  Second  Foho  has 
"  the  promise."  The  heading  that  follows  this 
speech,  and  also  155,  in  the  First  Folio  is  JEnter 
Lucius. 

154.  March  is  wasted  fourteen  days.  —  In  all 
the  old  editions  it  is  Ji/teen.  The  correction  was 
made  by  Theobald.  See  149.  Mr.  Collier  has  also 
fourteen;  but  he  does  not  here  appear  to  have  the 
authority  of  his  MS.  annotator.  The  heading  which 
precedes  is  '''-JEnter  Lucius  "  in  the  original  text. 

155.  The  genius  a7id  the  mortal  instruments. — 
The  commentators  have  written  and  disputed  lavishly 
upon  these  celebrated  words.  Apparently,  by  the 
genius  we  are  to  understand  the  contriving  and  im- 
mortal mind,  and  most  probably  the  mortal  instru- 
ments are  the  earthly  passions.  The  best  light  for 
the  interpretation  of  the  present  passage  is  reflected 
from  186,  where  Brutus,  advising  with  his  fellow- 
conspirators  on  the  manner  in  which  they  should 
despatch  their  mighty  victim,  not  as  bloodthirsty 
butchers,  but  as  performing  a  sacrifice  of  which  they 
lamented  the  necessity,  says,  — 

^        Let  our  hearts,  as  subtle  masters  do, 
Stir  up  their  servants  to  an  act  of  rage, 
And  after  seem  to  chide  'em. 

The  servants  here  may  be  taken  to  be  the  same  with 
the  instruments  in  the  passage  before  us.  It  has 
been  proposed  to  understand  by  the  mortal  instru- 
ments the  bodily  powers  or  organs  ;  but  it  is  not  ob- 
vious how  these  could  be  said  to  hold  consultation 
with  the  genius  or  mind.  Neither  could  they  in  the 
other  passage  be  so  fitly  said  to  be-stirred  up  by  the 
heart. 

The  bodily  organs,  however,  seem  to  be  distinctly 
designated  the  instruments  and  agents.,  in  Coriola- 


212  Philological  Commentary,     [act  ii. 

nus^  i.  I,  where,  first,  Menenius  Agrippa  says,  in  his 
apologue  of  the  rebellion  of  the  other  members  of 
the  body  against  the  belly,  — 

The  other  instruments 
Did  see  and  hear,  devise,  instruct,  walk,  feel, 
And  mutually  participate,  did  minister 
Unto  the  appetite  and  affection  common 
Of  the  whole  body,  — 

and,  shortly  after,  the  Second  Citizen  asks, — 

The  former  agents,  if  they  did  complain, 
What  could  the  belly  answer? 

So  again  in  Macbeth^  i.  7  :  — 

I  am  settled,  and  bent  up 
Each  corporal  agent  to  this  terrible  feat. 

[On  this  passage  compare  Troilus  and  Cressida^ 
ii.  3  :  — 

'Twixt  his  mental  and  his  active  parts 
Kingdomed  Achilles  in  commotion  rages, 
And  batters  down  himself.] 

155.  And  the  state  of  a  man.  —  This  is  the  origi- 
nal reading,  in  which  the  prosodical  irregularity  is 
nothing  more  than  what  frequently  occurs.  The 
common  reading  omits  the  article.  There  is  cer- 
tainly nothing  gained  in  vividness  of  expression  by 
so  turning  the  concrete  into  the  abstract.  We  have 
elsewhere,  indeed,  in  Macbeth^  i.  3,  "  My  single  state 
of  man  ;  "  and  Falstaff,  in  the  Second  Part  of  Henry 
IV.  iv.  4,  speaks  of  "  This  little  kingdom,  man ; " 
but  in  neither  of  these  cases  is  the  reference  in  the 
word  man  to  an  individual,  as  here.  [Collier,  Dyce, 
Hudson,  Staunton,  and  White  omit  the  «,  which  is 
obviously  a  misprint  of  the  Folio.  Knight  retains 
it,  but  Dyce  reminds  him  that  in  his  (K.'s)  National 
JEdition  of  Shakespeare,  his  own  printer  has  acci- 
dentally inserted  an  a  in  jfulius  Ccesar^  iv.  3  :  — 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  213 

I  said  an  elder  soldier,  not  a  better : 
Did  I  say  a  better? 

And  Craik's  printer  has  falsified  the  text  in  6^^  "  He 
is  a  noble  Roman,"  by  omitting  the  a^  and  the  editor 
has  overlooked  the  error,  just  as  the  proof-reader  of 
1623  did  here.]  The  Exit  Lucius  attached  to  the 
first  line  of  this  speech  is  modern. 

156.  Tour  brother  Cassius.  —  Cassius  had  mar- 
ried Junia,  the  sister  of  Brutus. 

158.  No^  Sir^  there  are  moe  with  him.  —  Moe^ 
not  more^  is  the  word  here  and  in  other  passages, 
not  only  in  the  First,  but  in  all  the  Four  Folios.  It 
was  probably  the  common  form  in  the  popular  speech 
throughout  the  seventeenth  century,  as  it  still  is  in 
Scotland  in  the  dialectic  meh'  (pronounced  exactly 
as  the  English  may).  No  confusion  or  ambiguity  is 
produced  in  this  case  by  the  retention  of  the  old 
word,  of  continual  occurrence  both  in  Chaucer  and 
Spenser,  such  as  makes  it  advisable  to  convert  the 
then^  which  the  original  text  of  the  Plays  gives  us 
after  the  comparative,  into  our  modern  than.  In 
some  cases,  besides,  the  moe  is  absolutely  required 
by  the  verse ;  as  in  Balthazar's  Song  in  Much  Ado 
About  Nothing  (ii.  3)  :  — 

Sing  no  more  ditties,  sing  no  moe, 

Of  dumps  so  dull  and  heavy; 
The  frauds  of  men  were  ever  so, 

Since  summer  first  was  leavy. 

[The  modern  editors,  so  far  as  I  know,  all  give 
more^  except  where  the  rhyme  requires  moe.  In  the 
Bible,  edition  of  161 1,  moe  is  the  comparative  of 
many^  but  it  does  not  seem  to  have  been  used  for  the 
adverb.] 

160.  Plucked  about  their  ears.  —  Pulled  down 
about  their  ears. 


214  Philological  Commentary,      [act  it. 

i6o.  By  any  mark  of  favour » —  That  is,  of  fea- 
ture or  countenance.     See  54. 

161.  When  evils  are  most  free  I  —  When  evil 
things  have  most  freedom. 

161.  To  mask  thy  monstrous  visage?  —  The  only 
prosodical  irregularity  in  this  line  is  the  common  one 
of  the  one  supernumerary  short  syllable  (the  age  of 
visage) .  The  two  unaccented  syllables  which  follow 
the  fifth  accented  one  have  no  effect. 

161.  J^or,  if  thou  fath^  thy  native  semblance 
on.  —  Coleridge  has  declared  himself  convinced  that 
we  should  here  read  "  if  thou  fut  thy  native  sem- 
blance on ; "  and  Mr.  Knight  is  inclined  to  agree 
with  him,  seeing  \kvdX  ^utte  might  be  easily  mistaken 
for  pathe.  If  path  be  the  word,  the  meaning  must 
be.  If  thou  go  forth.  Path  is  employed  as  a  verb  by 
Drayton,  but  not  exactly  in  this  sense :  he  speaks  of 
pathing  a  passage,  and  pathing  a  way,  that  is,  making 
or  smoothing  a  passage  or  way.  There  is  no  comma 
or  other  point  after  fath  in  the  old  copies.  [White 
is  "  inclined  to  the  opinion  that  fath  is  a  misprint 
for  hadst;  "  which  is  not  unlikely.  The  Quarto  of 
1691  has  hath.'] 

161.  To  hide  thee  from,  prevention,  — To  prevent 
(praevenire)  is  to  come  before,  and  so  is  equivalent 
in  effect  with  to  hinder^  which  is  literally  to  make 
behind.  I  make  that  behind  me  which  I  get  before. 
—  The  heading  that  follows  is  in  the  old  copies, 
*''' Enter  the  Conspirators.,  Cassius^  Casca^  Decius^ 
Cinna,  Metellus.,  and  Trebonius." 

162.  We  are  too  bold  upon  your  rest.  — We  in- 
trude too  boldly  or  unceremoniously  upon  your  rest. 

168.  This^  Casca;  this.,  Cinna;  etc.  —  I  print 
this  speech  continuously,  as  it  stands  in  the  original 
edition,  and  as  Mr.  Knight  has  also  given  it.     It 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  215 

might  perhaps  be  possible,  by  certain  violent  pro- 
cesses, to  reduce  it  to  the  rude  semblance  of  a  line 
of  verse,  or  to  break  it  up,  as  has  also  been  at- 
tempted, into  something  like  a  pair  of  hemistichs ; 
but  it  is  far  better  to  regard  it  as  never  having  been, 
intended  for  verse  at  all,  like  many  other  brief  utter- 
ances of  the  same  level  kind  interspersed  in  this  and 
all  the  other  Plays. 

174.  WhicJi  is  a  great  zuay,  etc.  —  The  commen- 
tators, who  flood  us  with  their  explanations  of  many 
easier  passages,  have  not  a  word  to  say  upon  this. 
Casca  means  that  the  point  of  sunrise  is  as  yet  far 
to  the  south  (of  east),  weighing  (that  is,  taking  into 
account,  or  on  account  of)  the  unadvanced  period 
of  the  year. 

175.  Give  7ne  your  hands  all  over.  —  That  is,  all 
included.     The  idiom  is  still  common. 

177.  If  not  the  face  of  fnen.  —  The  commenta- 
tors are  all  alive  here,  one  proposing  to  read  fate 
of  men,  another  faith  of  men,  another  faiths  (as 
nearer  in  sound  ioface).  There  seems  to  be  no  great 
difficulty  in  the  old  reading,  understood  as  meaning 
the  looks  of  men.  It  is  preferable,  at  any  rate,  to 
anything  which  it  has  been  proposed  to  substitute. 
[Dyce,  Hudson,  and  White  have  face,'] 

1 77.  The  tijne's  abuse.  —  The  prevalence  of  abuse 
generally,  all  the  abuses  of  the  time. 

177.  Hence  to  his  idle  bed.  —  That  is,  bed  of  idle- 
ness, or  in  which  he  may  lie  doing  nothing  (not  va- 
cant or  unoccupied  bed,  as  some  would  understand 
it).     [Compare  the  expression,  "  a  sick  bed."] 

1 77*  ^o  l<^l  high-sighted  tyranny.  —  High-look- 
ing, proud.  —  Some  modern  editions  have  rage^  in- 
stead of  range,,  probably  by  an  accidental  misprint. 

177*    Till  each  man  drop  by  lottery.  —  That  is, 


2i6  Philological  Commentary,      [act  ii. 

probably,  as  if  by  chance,  without  any  visible  cause 
why  he  in  particular  should  be  struck  down  or  taken 
off;  or  there  may  be  an  allusion  to  the  process  of 
decimation. 

177*  Than  secret  Romans .  —  Romans  bound  to 
secrecy. 

1 77*  -And  will  not  palter  ?  —  To  palter  means  to 
shuffle,  to  equivocate,  to  act  or  speak  unsteadily  or 
dubiously  with  the  intention  to  deceive.  It  is  best 
explained  by  the  well-known  passage  in  Macbeth 
(V.7):- 

And  be  these  juggling  fiends  no  more  believed, 
That  palter  with  us  in  a  double  sense ; 
That  keep  the  word  of  promise  to  our  ear, 
And  break  it  to  our  hope. 

177.    Or  we  will  fall  for  it  ?  —  Will  die  for  it. 

177.  Men  cautelous.  —  Cautelous  is  given  to  cau- 
tels^  full  of  cautels.  A  cautel^  from  the  Roman 
law-term  cautela  (a  caution,  or  security),  is  mostly 
used  in  a  discreditable  sense  by  our  old  English 
writers.  The  caution  has  passed  into  cunning  in 
their  acceptation  of  the  word  ;  —  it  was  natural  that 
caution  should  be  popularly  so  estimated ;  —  and  by 
cautels  they  commonly  mean  craftinesses,  deceits. 
Thus  we  have  in  Hamlet  (i.  3),  — 

And  now  no  soil  nor  cautel  doth  besmirch 
The  virtue  of  his  will. 

And  in  the  passage  before  us  cautelous  is  cautious 
and  wary  at  least  to  the  point  of  cowardice,  if  not  to 
that  of  insidiousness  and  trickery. 

177.  Old  feeble  carrions. —  Carrions^  properly 
masses  of  dead  and  putrefying  flesh,  is  a  favorite 
term  of  contempt  with  Shakespeare. 

1 77.  Such  suffering  souls^  etc.  —  See  the  note  on 
that  gentleness  as  in  44.     In  the  present  speech  we 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  217 

have  both  the  old  and  the  new  phraseology  ;  —  suck 
.  .  .  that  in  one  line,  and  such  .  .  .  as  \xi  the  next.  — 
Suffering  souls  are  patient,  all-enduring  souls. 

177.  The  even  virtue  of  our  enterprise.  —  The 
even  virtue  is  the  firm  and  steady  virtue.  The  our 
is  emphatic. 

177.  Nor  the  insuppressive  ?nettle.  —  The  keen- 
ness and  ardor  incapable  of  being  suppressed  (how- 
ever illegitimate  such  a  form  with  that  sense  may  be 
thought  to  be).  So  we  have  in  As  Tou  Like  It  (iii. 
2),  "  The  fair,  the  chaste,  and  unexpressive  she." 
And  even  Milton  has  {Lycidas,  176)?  "And  hears 
the  unexpressive  nuptial  song."  [So  "  With  unex- 
pressive notes,"  Hymn  on  the  Nativ.  116.]  —  For 
mettle  see  102. 

177.    To  think  that.  —  That  is,  so  as  to  think. 

177.  Is  guilty  of  a  several  bastardy.  —  The  ety- 
mology of  the  word  bastard  is  uncertain.  Shake- 
speare probably  took  his  notion  of  what  it  radically 
expressed  from  the  convertible  phrase  base-born. 
Thus,  .in  Lear.,  i.  2,  Edmund  soliloquizes  —  "  Why 
bastard  ?  Wherefore  base  ?  "  By  a  several  bastardy 
here  is  meant  a  special  or  distinct  act  of  baseness,  or 
of  treason  against  ancestry  and  honorable  birth.  For 
several  see  443. 

1 78.  But  what  of  Cicero  ?  etc.  —  Both  the  prosody 
and  the  sense  direct  us  to  lay  the  emphasis  on  him. 

1 78.  He  will  stand  very  strong.  —  He  will  take 
part  with  us  decidedly  and  warmly. 

181.  It  shall  be  said.,  his  judgment^  etc.  —  Dr. 
Guest,  in  the  paper  "  On  English  Verbs,"  in  the 
Second  Volume  of  the  Proceedings  of  the  Philo- 
logical Society.,  which  has  been  already  referred  to, 
adduces  some  examples  to  show  that  the  primary 
sense  of  shall  is  to  owe.     Hence  the  use  of  should^ 


2i8  Philological  Commentary,     [act  ii. 

which  is  still  common  in  the  sense  of  ought.  "  The 
use  of  shall  to  denote  future  time,"  Dr.  Guest  con- 
tinues, "  may  be  traced  to  a  remote  antiquity  in  our 
language ;  that  of  will  is  of  much  later  origin,  and 
prevailed  chiefly  in  our  northern  dialects.  —  Writers, 
however,  who  paid  much  attention  to  their  style, 
generally  used  these  terms  with  greater  precision. 
The  assertion  of  will  or  of  duty  seems  to  have  been 
considered  by  them  as  implying  to  a  certain  extent 
the  power  to  will  or  to  impose  a  duty.  As  a  man 
has  power  to  will  for  himself  only,  it  was  only  in 
the  first  person  that  the  verb  will  could  be  used  with 
this  signification  ;  and  in  the  other  persons  it  was 
left  free  to  take  that  latitude  of  meaning  which  popu- 
lar usage  had  given  to  it.  Again,  the  power  which 
overrides  the  will  to  impose  a  duty  must  proceed 
from  some  external  agency  ;  and  consequently  shall 
could  not  be  employed  to  denote  such  power  in  the 
first  person.  In  the  first  person,  therefore,  it  was 
left  free  to  follow  the  popular  meaning,  but  in  the 
other  two  was  tied  to  its  original  and  more  precise 
signification.  These  distinctions  still  continue  a 
shibboleth  for  the  natives  of  the  two  sister  king- 
doms. Walter  Scott,  as  is  well  known  to  his  read- 
ers, could  never  thoroughly  rpaster  the  difficulty." 

In  the  Third  Edition  of  Dr.  Latham's  English  Lan- 
guage^ pp.  470-474,  may  be  found  two  other  explana- 
tions ;  the  first  by  the  late  Archdeacon  Julius  Charles 
Hare  (from  the  Cambridge  Philological  Museum^  11. 
203),  the  second  by  Professor  De  Morgan  (from  the 
Proceedings  of  the  Philological  Society^  iv.  185  ;  No. 
90,  read  25th  Jan.  1850).  [See  also  additional  remarks 
in  the  Fifth  Edition  of  Latham's  work,  pp.  624-626. 
Compare  Marsh,  Lectures^  First  Series^  p.  659.] 

The  manner  of  using  shall  and  will  which  is  now 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  219 

so  completely  established  in  England,  and  which 
throughout  the  greater  part  of  the  country  is  so  per- 
fectly uniform  among  all  classes,  was  as  yet  only 
growing  up  in  the  6arly  part  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury. This  was  very  well  shown  some  years  ago  by  a 
writer  in  Blackwood' s  Magazine^  by  comparing  many 
passages  of  the  authorized  version  of  the  Scriptures, 
published  in  161 1,  with  the  same  passages  in  the 
preceding  translation,  called  the  Bishops'  Bible^ 
which  had  appeared  in  1568.  The  old  use  of  shall^ 
instead  of  will^  to  indicate  simple  futurity,  with  the 
second  and  third  persons,  as  well  as  with  the  first,  is 
still  common  with  Shakespeare.  Here,  in  this  and 
the  next  line,  are  two  instances  :  "  It  shall  be  said  ;  " 
"  Shall  no  whit  appear."  So  afterwards  we  have,  in 
187,  "  This  shall  mark  our  purpose  necessary;"  in 
238,  "  Caesar  should  be  a  beast  without  a  heart ;  "  in 
350,  "  The  enemies  of  Caesar  shall  say  this ;  "  in 
619,  "  The  enemy,  marching  along  by  them.  By 
them  shall  make  a  fuller  number  up."  We  have 
occasionally  the  same  use  of  shall  even  in  Claren- 
don :  "  Whilst  there  are  Courts  in  the  world, 
emulation  and  ambition  will  be  inseparable  from 
them  ;  and  kings  who  have  nothing  to  give  shall  be 
pressed  to  promise"  ^Z^/j-/.,  Book  xiii).  In  some 
rare  instances  the  received  text  of  Shakespeare  gives 
us  will  where  we  should  now  use  shall;  as  when 
Portia  says,  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice^  iii.  4,  — 

I'll  hold  thee  any  wager, 
When  we  are  both  accoutred  like  young  men, 
ril  prove  the  prettier  fellow  of  the  two. 

But  here  we  should  probably  read  "/prove."  [?] 

i8i.  Shall  no  whit  appear. —  Whit  is  the  Saxon 
wiht^  anything  that  exists,  a  creature.  It  is  the  same 
word  with  wight^  which  we  now  use  only  for  a  man, 


220  Philological  Commentary,      [act  it. 

in  the  same  manner  as  we  have  come  in  the  language 
of  the  present  day  to  understand  creature  almost  ex- 
clusively in  the  sense  of  a  living  creature,  although 
it  was  formerly  used  freely  for  everything  created,  — 
as  when  Bacon  says  {JBssay  of  Truth),  *'  The  first 
creature  of  God,  in  the  works  of  the  days,  was  the 
light  of  the  sense  ;  the  last  was  the  light  of  reason  ; 
and  his  Sabbath  work  ever  since  is  the  illumination 
of  his  spirit;  "  or  {Adv.  of  Learning,  B.  i.),  "  The 
wit  and  mind  of  man,  if  it  work  upon  matter,  which 
is  the  contemplation  of  the  creatures  of  God,  worketh 
according  to  the  stuft',  and  is  limited  thereby  ;  "  or  as 
it  is  written  in  our  authorized  version  of  the  Scrip- 
tures (i  Tim.  iv.  4),  "Every  creature  of  God  (<Tav 
XTitf/xa  ©sou)  is  good,  and  nothing  to  be  refused,  if 
it  be  received  with  thanksgiving."  We  have  crea- 
ture used  in  this  extensive  sense  even  by  so  late  a 
writer  as  the  Scotch  metaphysician  Dr.  Reid  (who 
died  in  1796),  in  his  Inquiry  into  the  Hitman  Mind, 
ch.  I,  first  published  in  1764:  "Conjectures  and 
theories  are  the  creatures  of  men,  and  will  always 
be  found  very  unlike  the  creatures  of  God."  No 
ivhit  is  not  anything,  nowhat,  not  at  all.  And  our 
modern  not  (anciently  nought)  is  undoubtedly  no 
whit :  how  otherwise  is  the  t  to  be  accounted  for  ? 
So  that  our  English  "I  do  not  speak,"  =  I  do  no 
whit  speak,  is  an  exactly  literal  translation  of  the 
French  ye  ne  farle  fas  (or  point),  which  many 
people  believe  to  contain  a  double  negative. 

182.  Let  us  not  break  with  him.  —  That  is.  Let 
us  not  break  the  matter  to  him.  This  is  the  sense 
in  which  the  idiom  to  break  with  is  most  frequently 
found  in  Shakespeare.  Thus,  in  Much  Ado  About 
Nothing  (i.  i),  the  Prince,  Don  Pedro,  says  to  his 
favorite  Don  Claudio,  "  If  thou  dost  love  fair  Hero, 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  221 

cherish  it ;  and  I  will  break  with  her ; "  that  is,  I 
will  open  the  matter  to  her.  And  again,  in  the  same 
scene,  "  Then  after  to  her  father  will  I  break."  So 
in  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Vero7ia  (iii.  i),  "I  am 
to  break  with  thee  of  some  affairs"  [and  (i.  3), 
"Now  will  we  break  with  him"].  But  when,  in 
The  Merry  Wives  of  Wz?zdsor  (iii.  2),  Slender  says 
to  Ford,  in  answer  to  his  invitation  to  dinner,  "We 
have  appointed  to  dine  with  Mistress  Anne,  and  I 
would  not  break  with  her  for  more  money  than  I'll 
speak  of,"  he  means  he  would  not  break  his  engage- 
ment with  her.  The  phrase  is  nowhere,  I  believe, 
used  by  Shakespeare  in  the  only  sense  which  it  now 
bears,  namely,  to  quarrel  with. 

186.  A  shrewd  contriver.  —  The  adjective  shrewd 
is  generally  admitted  to  be  connected  with  the  sub- 
stantive shrew ;  and  according  to  Home  Tooke 
{Div.  of  Purley^  457-9)?  t>oth  are  formations  from 
the  Saxon  verb  sy7'wan^  syrewan^  or  syrewian, 
meaning  to  vex,  to  molest,  to  cause  mischief  to, 
from  which  he  also  deduces  sorrow,  sorry ^  sore,,  and 
sour.  Bosworth  (who  gives  the  additional  forms 
syrwian,  syrwyan,  searwian,  sedrwan.,  searian, 
serian)  interprets  the  old  verb  as  meaning  to  pre- 
pare, endeavor,  strive,  arm,  to  lay  snares,  entrap, 
take,  bruise.  A  shrew,  according  to  this  notion, 
might  be  inferred  to  be  one  who  vexes  or  molests ; 
and  shrewd  will  mean  endowed  with  the  qualities 
or  disposition  of  a  shrew.  Shrew,  as  Tooke  re- 
marks, was  formerly  applied  to  a  male  as  well  as  to 
a  female.  So,  on  the  other  hand,  para?nour  and 
lover,  n6w  only  used  of  males,  were  formerly  also 
applied  to  females ;  and  in  some  of  the  provincial 
dialects  villai?i  is  still  a  common  term  of  reproach 
for  both  sexes  alike.     [See  259.] 


222  Philological  Commentary,      [act  ii. 

Both  to  shrew  and  to  beshrexv  are  used  by  our  old 
writel'S  in  the  sense  of  to  curse,  which  latter  verb, 
again  (originally  cur  sail  or  cursian)^  also  primarily 
and  properly  signifies  to  vex  or  torment.  Now,  it 
is  a  strong  confirmation  of  the  derivation  of  shrewd 
from  the  verb  to  shrew  that  we  find  shrewd  and 
curst  applied  to  the  disposition  and  temper  by  our 
old  writers  in  almost,  or  rather  in  precisely,  the  same 
sense.  Shakespeare  himself  affords  us  several  in- 
stances. Thus,  in  Much  Ado  About  Nothhig  (ii.  i ) , 
Leonato  having  remarked  to  Beatrice,  "  By  my  troth, 
niece,  thou  wilt  never  get  a  husband  if  thou  be  so 
shrewd  of  thy  tongue,"  his  brother  Antonio  adds, 
assentingly,  "  In  faith,  she's  too  curst.''  So,  in  A 
Midsummer  Nighfs  Dreain  (iii.  2),  Helena,  de- 
clining to  reply  to  a  torrent  of  abuse  from  Hermia, 
says,  "  I  was  never  curst;  I  have  no  gift  at  all  in 
shrewishness.'^  And  in  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew 
(i.  2),  first  we  have  Hortensio  describing  Katharine 
to  his  friend  Petruchio  as  "  intolerable  curst.,  and 
shrewd.^  and  froward,"  and  then  we  have  Katharine, 
the  shrew,  repeatedly  designated  "  Katharine  the 
curst''  At  the*  end  of  the  Play  she  is  called  "  a 
curst  shrew,"  that  is,  as  we  might  otherwise  express 
it,  an  ill-tempered  shrew. 

Shrew.,  by  the  way,  whether  the  substantive  or 
the  verb,  always,  I  believe,  and  also  shrewd  very 
frequently,  appear  throughout  the  First  Folio  with 
ow  as  the  diphthong,  instead  of  ew ;  and  in  The 
Taming  of  the  Shrew  the  word  shrew  is  in  various 
places  made  to  rhyme  with  the  sound  of  o;  so  that 
uhere  can  be  little  doubt  that  its  common  pronun- 
ciation in  Shakespeare's  day  was  shrow.,  and  also 
chat  the  same  vowel  sound  was  given  to  shrewd  or 
shrowd  in  at  least  some  of  its  applications.     It  is  the 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  223 

reverse  of  what  appears  to  have  happened  in  the 
case  of  the  w^ord  v^diich  probably  w^as  formerly  pro- 
nounced shew  (as  it  is  still  often  spelled),  but  now 
always  show.     Thus  Milton,  in  his  7th  Sonnet,  — 
How  soon  hath  Time,  the  subtle  thief  oi youth, 
Stolen  on  his  wing  my  three  and  twentieth  yearl 
My  hasting  days  fly  on  with  full  career, 
But  my  late  spring  no  bud  or  blossom  skew'th. 

So  likewise  in  //  Penseroso  (171,  172), — 

Of  every  star  that  heaven  doth  shew, 
And  every  herb  that  sips  the  dew. 

In  the  case,  again,  oi  strew ^  or  strow^  neither  mode 
either  of  spelling  or  of  pronunciation  can  perhaps  be 
said  to  have  quite  gone  out,  although  the  dictionaries, 
I  believe,  enjoin  us  to  write  the  word  with  an  ^,  but 
to  give  it  the  sound  of  an  o.  In  the  passage  before 
us  the  First  Folio  has  "  a  shrew'd  contriver.'* 

As  it  is  in  words  that  ill-temper  finds  the  readiest 
and  most  frequent  vent,  the  terms  curst  and  skreWy 
and  shrewdy  and  shrewish  are  often  used  with  a 
special  reference  to  the  tongue.  But  sharpness  of 
tongue,  again,  always  implies  some  sharpness  of  un- 
derstanding as  well  as  of  temper.  The  terms  shrewd 
and  shrewdly^  accordingly,  have  come  to  convey 
usually  something  of  both  of  these  qualities,  —  at  one 
time,  perhaps,  most  of  the  one,  at  another  of  the 
other.  The  sort  of  ability  that  we  call  shrewdness 
never  suggests  the  notion  of  anything  very  high : 
the  word  has  always  a  touch  in  it  of  the  sarcastic  or 
disparaging.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  disparage- 
ment which  it  expresses  is  never  without  an  admis- 
sion of  something  also  that  is  creditable  or  flattering. 
Hence  it  has  come  to  pass  that  a  person  does  not 
hesitate  to  use  the  terms  in  question  even  of  himself 
and  his  own  judgments  or  conjectures.     We  say,  "  I 


224  Philological  Commentary,      [act  ii. 

shrewdly  suspect  or  guess,"  or  "  I  have  a  shrewd 
guess,  or  suspicion,"  taking  the  Hberty  of  thus  assert- 
ing or  assuming  our  own  intellectual  acumen  under 
cover  of  the  modest  confession  at  the  same  time  of 
some  little  ill-nature  in  the  exercise  of  it. 

Even  when  shrewd  is  used  without  any  personal 
reference,  the  sharpness  which  it  implies  is  generally, 
if  not  always,  a  more  or  less  unpleasant  sharpness. 
"  This  last  day  was  a  shrewd  one  to  us,"  says  one  of 
the  Soldiers  of  Octavius  to  his  comrade,  in  Antony 
and  Cleopatra^  iv.  9,  after  the  encounter  in  which 
they  had  been  driven  back  by  Antony  near  Alexan- 
dria. Shrewdness  is  even  used  by  Chaucer  in  the 
sense  of  evil  generally  ;   as  in  The  House  of  Fame ^ 

Speke  of  hem  harm  and  shreuednesse, 
Instead  of  gode  and  worthinesse. 

And  so  too  Bacon :  "  An  ant  is  a  wise  creature  for 
itself;  but  it  is  a  shrewd  thing  in  an  orchard  or  gar- 
den." Essay  23d,  "  Of  Wisdom  for  a  Man's  Self." 
186.  If  he  improve  them.  — That  is,  if  he  apply 
them,  if  he  turn  them  to  account.  It  is  remarkable 
that  no  notice  is  taken  of  this  sense  of  the  word  either 
by  Johnson  or  Todd.  Many  examples  of  it  are  given 
by  Webster  under  both  Improve  and  Improvement, 
They  are  taken  from  the  writings,  among  others,  of 
Tillotson,  Addison,  Chatham,  Blackstone,  Gibbon. 
We  all  remember 

How  doth  the  little  busy  bee 
Improve  each  shining  hour. 

Even  Johnson  himself,  in  The  Rambler^  talks  of  a 
man  "  capable  of  enjoying  and  improving'  life,"  — 
by  which  he  can  only  mean  turning  it  to  account. 
The  iin  of  improve  must  be,  or  must  have  been 
taken  to  be,  the  preposition  or  the  intensive  particle, 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  225 

not  the  in  negative,  although  it  is  the  latter  which  we 
have  both  in  the  Latin  improhus  and  tmprobo^  and 
also  in  the  French  improuver^  the  only  signification 
of  which  is  to  disapprove,  and  although  in  the  latinized 
English  of  some  of  our  writers  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury to  improve  occurs  in  the  senses  both  of  to  reprove 
and  to  disprove.  In  Much  Ado  About  Nothing,, 
li.  3,  when  Benedick,  speaking  to  himself  of  Beatrice, 
says,  "  They  say  the  lady  is  fair  ;  .  .  .  and  virtuous  ; 
'tis  so,  I  cannot  reprove  it,"  he  seems  to  mean  that 
he  cannot  disprove  it.  The  manner  in  which  the 
word  improve  was  used  in  the  middle  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  may  be  seen  from  the  following  sen- 
tences of  Clarendon's  :  "  This  gave  opportunity  and 
excuse  to  many  persons  of  quality  ...  to  lessen 
their  zeal  to  the  King's  cause;  .  .-.  and  those  con- 
testations had  been  lately  improved  with  some  sharp- 
ness by  the  Lord  Herbert's  carriage  towards  the  Lord 
Marquis  of  Hertford"  {Hist.  Book  vi.).  "Though 
there  seemed  reasons  enough  to  dissuade  her  from 
that  inclination,  and  his  majesty  heartily  wished  that 
she  could  be  diverted,  yet  the  perplexity  of  her  mind 
was  so  great,  and  her  fears  so  vehement,  both  im- 
proved by  her  indisposition  of  health,  that  all  civility 
and  reason  obliged  everybody  to  submit"  {Id.  Book 
viii.). 

187.  And  envy  afterwards.  —  Envy  has  here  the 
sense  often  borne  by  the  Latin  invidia,  or  nearly  the 
same  with  hatred  or  malice^  —  the  sense  in  which  it 
is  almost  always  used  by  Shakespeare. 

187.  Let  us  be  sacrijicers.  —  I  cannot  think  that 
the  Lefs  be  of  the  First  Folio  indicates  more,*  at 
most,  than  that  it  was  the  notion  of  the  original 
printer  or  editor  that  sacrijicers  should  be  pro- 
nounced with  the  emphasis  on  the  second  syllable. 
15 


226  Philological  Commentary.      [act  ii. 

If  we  keep  to  the  ordinary  pronunciation,  the  line 
will  merely  have  two  supernumerary  short,  or  unac- 
cented, syllables  ;  that  is  to  say,  "  sacrificers,  but  not" 
will  count  for  only  two  feet.  Or  four  syllables.  This 
is  nothing  more  than  what  we  have  in  many  other 
lines.     [See  i6i.] 

187.  We  all  stand  up^  etc.  —  Spirit  is  the  em- 
phatic word  in  this  line. 

187.  And  let  our  hearts^  etc.  —  See  155. 

187.  This  shall  mark.  —  For  the  shall  see  i8i.  — 
The  old  reading  is,  "  This  shall  make"  which  is  sense, 
if  at  all,  only  on  the  assumption  that  make  is  here 
equivalent  to  make  to  seem.  I  have  no  hesitation  in 
accepting  the  correction,  which  we  owe  to  Mr.  Col- 
lier's MS.  annotator.  We  have  nov/  a  clear  meaning 
perfectly  expressed  ;  —  this  will  show  to  all  that  our 
act  has  been  a  measure  of  stern  and  sad  necessity, 
not  the  product  of  envy  (or  private  hatred).  [Dyce, 
Hudson,  and  White  have  make.  No  change  seems 
called  for.] 

187.  Our  purpose  necessary.,  etc.  —  There  is  noth- 
ing irregular  in  the  prosody  of  this  line,  nor  any  elis- 
ion to  be  made.  The  measure  is  completed  by  the 
en  oi  envious;  the  two  additional  unaccented  sylla- 
bles have  no  prosodical  effect.  [See  above  on  Let 
us  he  sacrijicers.'] 

188.  Tet  I  do  fear  him.  —  The  old  reading  is, 
"  Yet  I  fear  him  ; "  the  do  was  inserted  by  Steevens. 
It  improves,  if  it  is  not  absolutely  required  by,  the 
sense  or  expression  as  well  as  the  prosody.  Mr. 
Knight,  by  whom  it  is  rejected  [as  it  is  by  Dyce, 
Hudson,  and  White],  says,  "  The  pause  which  nat- 
urally occurs  before  Cassius  offers  an  answer  to  the 
impassioned  argument  of  Brutus,  would  be  most  de- 
cidedly marked  by  a  proper  reader  or  actor."     This 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  227 

pause  Mr.  Knight  would  have  to  be  equivalent  to  a 
single  short  syllable,  or  half  a  time.  Surely  one 
somewhat  longer  would  have  been  necessary  for  such 
an  effect  as  is  supposed.  The  manner  in  which  the 
next  line  is  given  in  the  original  text  shows  that  tlie 
printer  or  so-called  editor  had  no  notion  of  what  the 
words  meant,  or  whether  they  had  any  meaning :  in 
his  exhibition  of  them,  with  a  full  point  after  Caesar, 
they  have  none. 

189.  Is  to  himself^  etc.  —  JTo  think,  or  to  take 
thought,  seems  to  have  been  formerly  used  in  the 
sense  of  to  give  way  to  sorrow  and  despondency. 
Thus,  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  iii.  11,  to  Cleopa- 
tra's question,  after  the  battle  of  Actium,  "What  shall 
we  do,  Enobarbus?"  the  answer  of  that  worthy  is, 
"  Think  and  die."  [Compare  i  Sam,  ix.  5,  and 
Matt.  vi.  25.     See  also  Hamlet,  iii.  i  :  — 

And  thus  the  native  hue  of  resolution 

Is  sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought. 

So  Bacon,  Henry  VII.  p.  230 :  "  Hawis,  an  alder- 
man of  London,  was  put  in  trouble,  and  dyed  with 
thought,  and  anguish,  before  his  business  came  to  an 
end."] 

189.  And  that  were  much  he  should.  —  That 
would  be  much  for  him  to  do. 

190.  There  is  no  fear  in  him.  —  That  is,  cause  of 
fear.  It  is  still  common  to  use  terror  in  this  active 
sense,  —  as  in  194  and  551. 

192.   The  clock  hath  stricken.  —  See  46  and  252. 

194.  Whether  Ccesar  will  come  forth  to-day  or 
no.  —  Whether  is  thus  given  uncontracted  here  in 
all  the  old  copies.     [vSee  16.] 

194.  ^uite  fro7n  the  main  opinion.  —  "  Qiiite 
from  "  is  quite  away  from.     So  in  Twelfth  Night,  v. 


228  Philological  Commentary,      [act  ii. 

I ,  Malvolio,  charging  the  Countess  with  having  writ- 
ten the  letter,  says,  — 

You  must  not  now  deny  it  is  your  hand ; 

Write  from  it,  if  you  can,  in  hand  or  phrase. 

Malone  remarks  that  the  words  "  main  opinion " 
occur  also  in  T^'oilus  and  Cressida^  where,  as  he 
thinks,  they  signify,  as  here,  general  estimation. 
The  passage  is  in  i.  3  :  — 

Why  then  we  should  our  main  opinion  crush 
In  taint  of  our  best  man. 

Johnson's  interpretation  is  perhaps  better :  "  lead- 
ing, fixed,  predominant  opinion."  Mason  has  in- 
geniously proposed  to  read  "  ?nean  opinion  "  in  the 
present  passage. 

194.  Of  fantasy^  etc.  —  Fantasy  is  fancy,  or  im- 
agination, with  its  unaccountable  anticipations  and 
apprehensions,  as  opposed  to  the  calculations  of 
reason.  By  ceremonies^  as  Malone  notes,  we  are  to 
understand  here  omens  or  signs  deduced  from  sacri- 
fices or  other  ceremonial  rites.  The  word  is  used 
again  in  the  same  sense  in  233.  For  another  sense 
of  it  see  16. 

194.  These  apparent  prodigies. — Apparent  is 
here  plain,  evident,  about  which  there  can  be  no 
doubt ;  as  in  FalstafF's  (to  Prince  Henry)  "  Were  it 
not  here  apparent  that  thou  art  heir  apparent  (l 
Henry  IV.  i.  2),  —  where  the  here  is  also  certainly 
intended  to  coincide  with  the  heir.,  giving  rise  to  a 
suspicion  that  the  latter  word  may  have,  sometimes 
at  least,  admitted  of  a  diflerent  pronunciation  in 
Shakespeare's  day  from  that  which  it  always  has 
now.  So  when  Milton  says  of  our  first  parents 
after  their  fall  i^Par.  Lost,  x.  112)  that 

Love  was  not  in  their  looks,  either  to  God 
Or  to  each  other,  but  apparent  guilt, 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  229 

he  means  manifest  and  undoubted  guilt.  In  other 
cases  by  apparent  we  mean,  not  emphatically  ap- 
parent, or  indisputable,  but  simply  apparent,  appar- 
ent and  nothing  more,  or  what  we  otherwise  call 
probable  or  seeming.  "The  sense  is  apparent'* 
would  mean  that  the  sense  is  plain  ;  "  the  apparent 
sense  is,"  that  the  sense  seems  to  be. 

194.  The  unaccustomed  te7'7'or.  —  Unaccustomed 
is  unusual :  we  now  commonly  employ  it  for  unused 
to.     For  terror  see  190. 

194.  And  the  persuasio7i  of  his  augur ers.  — 
Augurer^  formed  from  the  verb,  is  Shakespeare's 
usual  word,  instead  of  the  Latin  augtir^  which  is 
commonly  employed,  and  which  he  too,  however, 
sometimes  has.     So  again  in  236. 

195.  That  unicorns^  etc.  —  "  Unicorns,"  says 
Steevens,  "  are  said  to  have  been  taken  by  one  who, 
running  behind  a  tree,  eluded  the  violent  push  the 
animal  was  making  at  him,  so  that  his  horn  spent 
its  force  on  the  trunk,  and  stuck  fast,  detaining  the 
beast  till  he  was  despatched  by  the  hunter."  He 
quotes  in  illustration  Spensei-'s  description  (-F.  .§. 
ii.  5)  :  - 

Like  as  a  lion  whose  imperial  power 

A  proud  rebellious  unicorn  defies, 

To  avoid  the  rash  assault  and  wrathful  stour 

Of  his  fierce  foe  him  to  a  tree  applies ; 

And,  when  him  running  in  full  course  he  spies, 

He  slips  aside ;  the  whiles  the  furious  beast 

His  precious  horn,  sought  of  his  enemies, 

Strikes  in  the  stock,  ne  thence  can  be  releast. 

But  to  the  mighty  victor  yields  a  bounteous  feast. 

"  Bears,"  adds  Steevens,  "  are  reported  to  have  been 
surprised  by  means  of  a  mirror,  which  they  would 
gaze  on,  affording  their  pursuers  an  opportunity  of 
taking  a  surer  aim.     This  circumstance,  I  think,  is 


230  Philological  Commentary,     [act  ii. 

mentioned  by  Claudian.  Elephants  were  seduced 
into  pitfalls,  lightly  covered  with  hurdles  and  turf, 
on  which  a  proper  bait  to  tempt  them  was  exposed. 
S^eVXiny-s  Natural  History^  Bookviii."  Reference 
might  also  be  made  to  a  speech  of  Timon  to  Ape- 
mantus  in  Timon  of  Athens^  iv.  3,  "  If  thou  wert 
the  lion,"  etc.,  which  is  too  long  to  be  quoted.  The 
import  of  the  For^  with  which  Decius  introduces  his 
statement,  is  not  seen  till  we  come  to  his  "  But  when 
I  tell  him,"  etc.,  which,  therefore,  ought  not,  as  is 
commonly  done,  to  be  separated  from  what  precedes 
by  so  strong  a  point  as  the  colon  —  the  substitute  of 
the  modern  editors  for  the  full  stop  of  the  original 
edition. 

195.  He  says^  he  does;  being  then  most  flat- 
tered. —  The  ing  of  being  counts  for  nothing  in  the 
prosody.  For  the  ed  oi  flattered.,  see  the  note  on 
246. 

197.  By  the  eighth  hour.  —  It  is  the  eight  hour 
in  the  first  three  Folios.  The  author,  however, 
probably  wrote  eighth. 

199.  Doth  bear  Ccesar  hard.  —  See  105. 

200.  Go  along  by  him.  —  Pope,  who  is  followed 
by  the  other  editors  before  Malone,  changed  by  into 
to.  But  to  go  along  by  a  person  was  in  Shake- 
speare's age  to  take  one's  way  where  he  was.  So 
afterwards  in  619,  "  The  enemy,  marching  along  by 
them  "  (that  is,  through  the  country  of  the  people 
between  this  and  Philippi). 

200.  r II  fashion  him.  —  I  will  shape  his  mind  to 
our  purposes. 

201.  The  morning  comes  upon  us.  —  It  may  just 
be  noted  that  all  the  old  copies  have  "  upon's."  And 
probably  such  an  elision  would  not  have  been  thought 
inelegant  at  any  time  in  the  seventeenth  century. 


sc.  I.]  Julius  Cjesar.  231 

202.  Let  not  our  looks  put  on  our  purposes,  —  Put 
on  such  expression  as  would  betray  our  purposes. 
Compare  the  exhortation  of  the  strong-minded  wife 
of  Macbeth  to  her  husband  {Macbeth^  i?  5)  :  — 

To  beguile  the  time, 
Look  like  the  time  :  bear  welcome  in  jour  eye, 
Your  hand,  jour  tongue ;  look  like  the  innocent  flower, 
But  be  the  serpent  under  it. 

But  the  sentiment  takes  its  boldest  form  from  the  lips 
of  Macbeth  himself  in  the  first  fervor  of  his  weak- 
ness exalted  into  determined  wickedness  (i.  7)  :  — 

Awaj,  and  mock  the  time  with  fairest  show : 

False  face  must  hide  what  the  false  heart  doth  know. 

202.  Formal  co7istancy.  —  Constancy  in  outward 
form,  or  aspect ;  the  appearance,  at  any  rate,  of 
perfect  freedom  from  anxiety  and  the  weight  of 
our  great  design.  The  original  stage  direction  is, 
'•''Exeuizt.  Manet  Brutus.^' 

202.  The  heavy  honey-dew  of  slumber.  —  This  is 
the  correction  by  Mr.  Collier's  MS.  annotator  of  the 
old  reading,  "  the  honey-heavy  dew."  I  cannot  doubt 
that  it  gives  us  what  Shakespeare  wrote.  "  The 
compound,"  as  Mr.  Collier  remarks,  "  unquestiona- 
bly is  not  honey-heavy^  but  honey-dew^  a  well-known 
glutinous  deposit  upon  the  leaves  of  trees,  etc. ;  the 
compositor  was  guilty  of  a  transposition."  We  have 
a  trace,  it  might,  be  added,  of  some  confusion  or  in- 
distinctness in  the  manuscript,  perhaps  occasioned 
by  an  interlineation,  and  of  the  perplexity  of  the 
compositor,  in  the  strange  manner  in  which  in  the 
First  Folio  the  dew  also,  as  well  as  the  heavy,  is 
attached  by  a  hyphen  ;  thus,  "  the  hony-heauy-Dew." 
[Hudson  follows  Collier.  Dyce  reads  "  honey  heavy 
dew,"  that  is,  as  he  explains  it,  "  honeyed  and  heavy." 
White  has  "  honey-heavy  dew,"  etc.,  "  that  is,  slum- 


232  Philological  Commentary,      [act  ii. 

ber  as  refreshing  as  dew,  and  whose  heaviness  is 
sweet."  It  may  be  noted  in  support  of  Collier's 
emendation,  that  in  Titus  Androjzicics^  iii.  i,  Shake- 
speare has  the  expression  "  honey-dew  :  "  — 

fresh  tears 

Stood  on  her  cheeks,  as  doth  the  honey-dew 
Upon  a  gathered  lily  almost  withered.] 

202.  Thou  hast  no  figures^  etc.  —  Pictures  created 
by  imagination  or  apprehension.  So  in  The  Meriy 
Wives  of  Windsor^  iv.  2,  Mrs.  Page,  to  Mrs.  Ford's 
"  Shall  we  tell  our  husbands  how  we  have  served 
him  (Falstaff)  ?  "  replies,  "  Yes,  by  all  means  ;  if  it 
be  but  to  scrape  the  figures  out  of  your  husband's 
brains." 

205.  You've  ungently.  —  All  the  Folios  have 
IT  have;  which,  however,  was  perhaps  not  pro- 
nounced differently  froin  the  modern  elision  adopted 
in  the  present  text.  As  that  elision  is  still  common, 
it  seems  unnecessary  to  substitute  the  full  Tou  have^ 
as  most  of  the  recent  editors  have  done. 

205.   Stole  from  my  bed,  —  See  46. 

205.  Which  sometime  hath  his  hour. — That  is, 
its  hour.     See  54. 

205.  Wafture  of  your  hand. —  Wafter  is  the 
form  of  the  word  in  all  the  Folios. 

205.  Fearing  to  strengthen  that  ifnpatience. — 
For  the  prosody  of  such  lines  see  the  note  on  246. 

205.  An  effect  of  humour.  —  Hu7nor  is  the  pe- 
culiar mood,  or  caprice,  of  the  moment ;  a  state  of 
mind  opposed  or  exceptional  to  the  general  disposi- 
tion acid  character. 

205.  As  it  hath  much  prevailed  on  your  con- 
ditio7z.  —  Condition  is  the  general  temper  or  state 
of  mind.  We  still  say  ill-conditio7ied^  for  ill-tem- 
pered.     Thus,  in    The  Merchant  of  Venice.,  i.  2. 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  233 

Portia  makes  the  supposition  that  her  suitor  the 
black  Prince  of  Morocco,  although  his  complexion 
be  that  of  a  devil,  may  have  "  the  condition  of  a 
saint."  Note  how  vividly  the  strong  feeling  from 
which  Portia  speaks  is  expressed  by  her  repetition 
of  the  much  —  "could  it  work  so  much  As  it  hath 
much  prevailed." 

205.  Dear  my  lord.  —  So,  in  Romeo  and  yuliet^ 
iii.  5,  Juliet  implores  her  mother,  "  O,  sweet  my 
mother,  cast  me  not  away  !  "  For  the  principle  upon 
which  this  form  of  expression  is  to  be  explained,  see 
the  note  on  89.  Though  now  disused  in  English,  it 
corresponds  exactly  to  the  French  Cher  Monsieur, 
The  personal  pronoun  in  such  phrases  has  become 
absorbed  in  the  noun  to  which  it  is  prefixed,  and  its 
proper  or  separate  import  is  not  thought  of.  A  re- 
markable instance,  in  another  form  of  construction, 
of  how  completely  the  pronoun  in  such  established 
modes  of  speech  was  formerly  apt  to  be  overlooked, 
or  treated  as  non-significant,  occurs  in  our  common 
version  of  the  Bible,  where,  in  i  Kiitgs  xviii.  7,  we 
have,  "And  as  Obadiah  was  in  the  way,  behold, 
Elijah  met  him :  and  he  knew  him,  and  fell  on  his 
face,  and  said.  Art  thou  that  my  lord  Elijah?" 
Still  more  extraordinary  is  what  we  have  in  Troilus 
and  Cressida^  v.  2,  where  (Ulysses  having  also 
addressed  Troilus,  "Nay,  good  my  lord,  go  oflf") 
Cressida  exclaims  to  herself,  — 

Ah  I  poor  our  sex !  this  fault  in  us  I  find, 
The  error  of  our  eye  directs  our  mind. 

209.  [Tjt  Brutus  sick? — White  remarks,  "For 
sick^  the  correct  English  adjective  to  express  all 
degrees  of  suffering  from  disease,  and  which  is  uni- 
versally used  in  the  Bible  and  by  Shakespeare,  the 
Englishman  01  Great  Britain  has  poorly  substituted 


234  Philological  Commentary,      [act  ii. 

the  adverb  ill^  Compare  Gen.  xlviii.  i  ;  i  Sam. 
xix.  14;  XXX.  13,  etc.] 

209.  Is  it  physical?  —  Medicinal. 

209.  Of  the  daizk  moi^ning:  —  The  Second  Folio 
changes  dank  into  dark. 

209.  To  add  unto  his  sickness.  —  His  is  mis- 
printed hit  in  the  First  Folio.  So  in  Macbeth.,  i.  5, 
we  have,  in  the  same  original  text,  "  the  effect  and 
hit^^  apparently  for  "the  effect  and  it"  (the  pur- 
pose),—  although  the  misprint,  if  it  be  one,  is  re- 
peated in  the  Second  Folio,  and  is,  as  far  as  we  can 
gather  from  Mr.  Collier,  left  uncorrected  by  his  MS. 
annotator.  It  is  even  defended  by  Tieck  as  probably 
the  true  reading.  It  cannot,  at  any  rate,  be  received 
as  merely  a  different  way  of  spelling  //,  deliberately 
adopted  in  this  instance  and  nowhere  else  through- 
out the  volume :  such  a  view  of  the  matter  is  the 
very  Quixotism  of  the  belief  in  the  immaculate  pu- 
rity of  the  old  text. 

209.  Ton  have  some  sick  offence.  —  Some  pain, 
or  grief,  that  makes  you  sick. 

209.  By  the  right  and  virtue  of  my  place.  —  By 
the  right  that  belongs  to,  and  (as  we  now  say)  in 
virtue  of  (that  is,  by  the  power  or  natural  prerogative 
of)  my  place  (as  your  wife).  The  old  spelling  of 
the  English  word,  and  that  which  it  has  here  in  the 
First  Folio,  is  vertue^  as  we  still  have  it  in  the 
French  vertu. 

209.  /  charTn  you.  —  Charm  (or  charme)  is  the 
reading  of  all  the  old  printed  copies.  Pope  substi- 
tuted charge.,  which  was  adopted  also  by  Hanmer. 
It  must  be  confessed  that  the  only  instance  which  has 
been  referred  to  in  support  of  charm  is  not  satisfac- 
tory. It  is  adduced  by  Steevens  from  Cymbeline^  i. 
7,  where  lachimo  says  to  Imogen,  — 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  235 

'Tis  jour  graces 
That  from  my  mutest  conscience  to  mjr tongue 
Charms  this  report  out. 

This  is  merely  the  common  application  of  the  verb 
to  charm  in  the  sense  of  to  produce  any  kind  of  ef- 
fect as  it  were  by  incantation.  CJiarin  is  from  car- 
men^ as  incantation  or  e7zchantment  is  from  cano. 
In  the  passage  before  us,  I  charm  you  (if  such  be  the 
reading)  must  mean  I  adjure  or  conjure  you.  Spen- 
ser uses  charm  with  a  meaning  which  it  does  not 
now  retain  ;  as  when  he  says  in  his  Shepherd' s  Kal- 
endar  {October^  118)?  "Here  we  our  slender  pipes 
may  safely  charm,^'  and,  in  the  beginning  of  his 
Colin  Cloufs  Come  Home  Again^  speaks  of"  char^n- 
ing  his  oaten  pipe  unto  his  peers,"  that  is,  playing 
or  modulating  (not  uttering  musical  sounds,  as  ex- 
plained by  Nares,  but  making  to  utter  them).  Still 
more  peculiar  is  the  application  of  the  wprd  by  Mar- 
vel in  a  short  poem  entitled  "The  Picture  of  T.  C. 
in  a  prospect  of  flowers  :  "  — 

Meanwhile,  whilst  every  verdant  thing 
Itself  does  at  thy  beauty  charm  ;  — 

that  is,  apparently,  delights  itself  in  contemplating 
thy  beauty.  We  do  not  now  use  this  verb  thus  re- 
flectively at  all.  There  seems,  however,  to  have 
been  formerly  a  latitude  in  the  application  of  it  which 
may  possibly  have  extended  to  such  a  sense  as  that 
which  must  be  assigned  to  it  if  it  was  really  the  word 
here  employed  by  Portia.  —  Two  stage  directions 
are  added  here  by  Mr.  Collier's  MS.  annotator : 
^'•Kneeling"  where  Portia  says,  "  Upon  my  knees  I 
charm  you  ;"  and  ^'-Raising  her^'  at  210. 

211.  But^  as  it  were^  in  sort^  or  limitation. — 
Only  in  a  manner,  in  a  degree,  in  some  qualified  or 
limited  sense.     We  still  say  in  a  sort. 


236  Philological  Commentary.      [act  ii. 

211.  To  keep  with  you ^  etc.  —  To  keep  company 
with  you.  To  keep  in  the  sense  of  to  live  or  dwell 
is  of  constant  occurrence  in  our  old  writers ;  and 
Nares  observes  that  they  still  say  in  the  University 
of  Cambridge,  Where  do  you  keep?  I  keep  in  such 
a  set  of  chambers.  We  sometimes  hear  it  asserted 
that  the  word  comfort^  as  well  as  the  thing,  is  exclu- 
sively English.  But  it  is  also  an  old  French  word, 
though  bearing  rather  the  sense  of  our  law  term  to 
comfort^  which  is  to  relieve,  assist,  or  encourage. 
And  it  exists,  also,  both  in  the  Italian  and  in  the 
Spanish.  Its  origin  is  an  Ecclesiastical  Latin  verb  con- 
forto  (from  con  and jfortis),  meaning  to  strengthen. 

[The  Hebrew  word  rendered  comfort  in  yob  ix. 
27  and  X.  30,  is  translated  "  to  recover  strength,"  Ps. 
xxxix.  13,  and  "  strengthen,"  Amos  v.  9.  In  the 
truce  between  England  and  Scotland  in  the  reign  of 
Richard  III.  it  was  provided  that  neither  of  the  kings 
*'  shall  maintayne,  fauour,  ayde,  or  comfort  any  reb- 
ell  or  trey  tour  "  (Hall,  Rich,  III.)^  and  shortly  after* 
we  read,  '•'  King  Charles  promised  him  aide  and  com- 
fort^ and  bad  him  to  be  of  good  courage  and  to  make 
good  chere."  In  Wiclif 's  Bible,  Isa.  xli.  7,  we  have, 
"And  he  coumfortide  hym  with  nailes,  that  it  shoulde 
not  be  moued."  And  in  Phil.  iv.  13,  "  I  may  alia 
thingis  in  him  that  comfortith  me."  See  Bible  Word- 
Book.'] 

211.  And  talk  to  you  sometimes^  etc.  —  The  true 
prosodical  view  of  this  line  is  to  regard  the  two  com- 
binations "  to  you  "  and  "  in  the  "  as  counting  each 
for  only  a  single  syllable.  It  is  no  more  an  Alexan- 
drine than  it  is  an  hexameter. 

212.  \^As  dear  to  me.,  etc.  —  Gray  has  adopted 
these  words  in  The  Bard:  — 

Dear  as  the  ruddy  drops  that  warm  my  heart. 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  237 

Some  critics  see  here  an  anticipation  of  Harvey's  dis- 
covery of  the  circulation  of  the  blood.] 

213.  [_A  woman  well  reputed^  etc.  —  Staunton 
punctuates  thus:  "A  woman,  w^ell-reputed  Cato's 
daughter  ; "  that  is,  a  woman,  daughter  of  the  much- 
esteemed  Cato.  Few  readers,  I  think,  will  approve 
the  emendation.] 

213.  Being  so  fathered  and  so  husbanded.  — We 
have  here  two  exemplifications  of  the  remarkable 
power  which  our  language  possesses  (though  a  con- 
sequence of  its  poverty  of  inflection,  or  of  the  loss  of 
their  distinctive  terminations  by  the  infinitive  and 
present  indicative  of  the  verb)  of  turning  almost  any 
noun,  upon  occasion,  into  a  verb.  It  may  be  called 
its  most  kingly  prerogative,  and  may  be  compared  to 
the  right  of  ennobling  exercised  b}'  the  crown  in  the 
English  political  constitution,  —  the  more,  inasmuch 
as  words  too,  as  well  as  men,  were  originally,  it  is 
probable,  all  of  equal  rank,  and  the  same  word  served 
universally  as  noun  at  one  time  and  as  verb  at  an- 
other. Most  of  our  verbs  that  are  of  purely  English 
or  Gothic  descent  are  still  in  their  simplest  form  un- 
distinguishable  from  nouns.  The  noun  and  the  verb 
might  be  exhibited  together  in  one  system  of  inflec- 
tion ;  father^  for  instance,  might  be  at  once  declined 
and  conjugated,  through  fathered^  and  fathering^ 
and  have  fathered.,  and  will  father.,  and  all  the  oth- 
er moods  and  tenses,  as  well  as  through  fathers  and 
father's,  and  of  a  father,  and  to  a  father,  and  the 
other  so  called  nominal  changes.  It  is  to  this  their 
identity  of  form  with  the  noun  that  our  English  verbs 
owe  in  a  great  measure  their  peculiar  force  and  live- 
liness of  expression,  consisting  as  that  does  in  their 
power  of  setting  before  us,  not  merely  the  fact  that 
something  has  been  done  or  is  doing,  but  the  act  or 


238  Philological  CommeIntary.      [act  ii. 

process  itself  as  a  concrete  thing  or  picture.  Shake- 
speare in  particular  freely  employs  any  noun  what- 
ever as  a  verb. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  the  germ  of  what  we  have 
here  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice  (i.  2)  :  — 

Her  name  is  Portia ;  nothing  undervalued 
To  Cato's  daughter,  Brutus'  Portia. 

The  merchant  of  Venice  had  certainly  been  writ- 
ten by  1598. 

213.  I  have  7nade  strong  f  roof  .  —  The  prosody 
concurs  here  with  the  sense  in  demanding  a  strong 
emphasis  upon  the  word  strong. 

214.  All  the  charactery.  —  All  that  is  charac- 
tered or  expressed  by  my  saddened  aspect.  The 
word,  which  occurs  also  in  the   Merry  Wives  of 

Windsor^  v.  5,  is  accented  on  the  second  syllable 
there  as  well  as  here.  And  no  doubt  this  was  also 
the  original,  as  it  is  still  the  vulgar,  accentuation  of 
character.  Shakespeare,  however,  always  accents 
that  word  on  the  char-.,  as  we  do,  whether  he  uses  it 
as  a  noun  or  as  a  verb  ;  though  a  doubt  may  be  enter- 
tained as  to  the  pronunciation  of  the  participial  form 
botli  in  the  line,  "  Are  visibly  charactered  and  en- 
graved," in  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona^  ii.  7, 
and  in  the  "  Show  me  one  scar  charactered  on  the 
skin"  of  2  Henry  VI.  iii.  i,  as  well  as  with  regard 
to  that  of  the  compound  which  occurs  in  Troilus  and 

Cressida^  iii.  2  :  — 

And  mighty  states  characterless  are  grated 
To  dusty  nothing. 

—  The  stage  direction  near  the  beginning  of  this 
speech  is  merely  Knock  in  the  original  edition. 

214.  Lucius^  whds  that  knocks?  —  Who  is  that 
who  knocks?  The  omission  of  the  relative  is  a  fa- 
miliar ellipsis.     See  34.      Whds  and  not  who  is,  is 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  239 

the  reading  of  all  the  Folios.  It  is  unnecessary  to 
suppose  that  the  two  broken  lines  were  intended  to 
make  a  whole  between  them.  They  are  best  regard- 
ed as  distinct  hemistichs.     [See  54,  55.] 

217.  The  Lig.  (for  Ligarius)  is  Cai.  throughout 
in  the  original  text.  The  authority  for  the  praeno- 
men  Caius^  by  which  Ligarius  is  distinguished 
throughout  the  Play,  is  Plutarch,  in  his  Life  of  Bru-' 
tus^  towards  the  beginning. 

218.  To  wear  a  kercJiief,  —  Kerchief  \^  cover- 
chiefs  the  chief  being  the  French  chef^  head  (from 
the  Latin  Cap-vX^  which  is  also  the  same  word  with 
the  English  Head  and  the  German  Haupt).  But, 
the  proper  import  of  chief  being  forgotten  or  neg- 
lected, the  name  kerchief  came  to  be  given  to  any 
cloth  used  as  a  piece  of  dress.  In  this  sense  the 
word  is  still  familiar  in  ha?idkorchief  though  both 
kerchief  itself  and  its  other  compound  neckerchief 
are  nearly  gone  out.  In  King  yohn^  iv.  i,  and  also 
in  As  Tou  Like  It^  iv.  3  and  v.  2,  the  word  in  the 
early  editions  is  handkercher ;  and  this  is  likewise 
the  form  in  the  Qiiarto  edition  of  Othello,  [In 
Chaucer  we  have  sometimes  the  form  keverchef  or 
coverchief  (Tyrwhitt),  as  in  C  T.  Prol.  455  :  — 

Here  keverchefs  weren  ful  fjne  of  ground. 
In  the  Scottish  we  find  the  form  curch :  — 

Ane  fair  quhjt  curch  shoo  puttis  upoun  hir  heid. 

JDundar."} 
221.  Thou,  like  an  exorcist.  —  "  Here,"  says 
Mason,  "  and  in  all  other  places  where  the  word 
occurs  in  Shakespeare,  to  exorcise  means  to  raise 
spirits,  not  to  lay  them  ;  and  I  believe  he  is  singular 
in  his  acceptation  of  it."  The  only  other  instances 
of  its  occurrence,  according  to  Mrs.  Clarke,  are,  in 
the  Song  in  Cymbeline,  iv.  2  :  — 


240  Philological  Commentary,      [act  ii. 

No  exerciser  harm  thee ! 

Nor  no  witchcraft  charm  thee  I 

in  All's  Well  that  Ends  Well,  v.  3,  where,  on  the 
appearance  of  Helena,  thought  to  be  dead,  the  King 

exclaims,  — 

Is  there  no  exorcist 
Beguiles  the  truer  office  of  mine  eyes  ? 

and  in  2  Henry  VI.  i.  4,  where  Bolingbroke  asks, 
"  Will  her  ladyship  behold  and  hear  our  exorcisms  ?  " 
meaning  the  incantations  and  other  operations  by 
which  they  were  to  raise  certain  spirits.  —  In  Mr. 
Collier's  regulated  text,  in  this  speech,  at  the  words 
"  Soul  of  Rome,"  we  have  the  stage  direction, 
"  Throwing  away  his  bandage.^' 

221.  My  mortijied  spirit.  —  Mor-ti-Ji-ed  here 
makes  four  syllables,  spirit  counting  for  only  one. 
And  mortijied  has  its  literal  meaning  of  deadened. 

224.  As  we  are  going  To  whom  it  must  be  done.  — 
While  we  are  on  our  way  to  those  whom  it  must  be 
done  to.  The  ellipsis  is  the  same  as  we  have  in  105, 
*'  From  that  it  is  disposed."  I  do  not  understand 
how  the  words  are  to  be  interpreted  if  we  are  to 
separate  going  from  what  follows  by  a  comma,  as 
is  done  in  most  editions. 

225.  Set  on  your  foot.  —  This  was  probably  a 
somewhat  energetic  or  emphatic  mode  of  expression. 
In  Scotland  they  say,  "  Put  down  your  foot "  in  ex- 
horting one  to  walk  on  briskly.  —  At  the  end  of  this 
speech  the  old  copies  have  Thunder  as  a  stage  di- 
rection. 

Scene  II.  The  same.  A  Room  in  Caesar's  Pal- 
ace. —  This  is  not  in  the  old  editions  ;  but  the  stage 
direction  that  follows  is,  only  with  Julius  Ccesar 
(for  CcBsar). 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  241 

227.  Nor  heaven  nor  earthy  etc.  —  This  use  of 
nor  .  .  .  nor  for  the  usual  neither  .  .  .  nor  of  prose 
(as  well  as  of  <?r  .  .  .  or  for  either  .  .  .  or)  is  still 
common  in  our  poetry.  On  the  other  hand,  either 
was  sometimes  used  formerly  in  cases  where  we  now 
always  have  or;  as  in  Luke  vi.  42  :  "  Why  be- 
holdest  thou  the  mote  that  is  in  thy  brother's  eye, 
but  perceivest  not  the  beam  that  is  in  thine  own  eye  ? 
Either  how  canst  thou  say  to  thy  brother,  Brother, 
let  me  pull  out  the  mote  that  is  in  thine  eye,  when 
thou  thyself  beholdest  not  the  beam  that  is  in  thine 
own  eye  ?  "  —  The  strict  grammatical  principle  would 
of  course  require  "  has  been  at  peace  ;  "  but  where, 
as  here,  the  two  singular  substantives  are  looked  at 
together  by  the  mind,  it  is  more  natural  to  regard 
them  as  making  a  plurality,  and  to  use  the  plural 
verb,  notwithstanding  the  disjunctive  conjunction  (as 
it  is  sometimes  oddly  designated). 

229.  Do  present  sacrifice.  —  In  this  and  a  good 
many  other  cases  we  are  now  obliged  to  employ  a 
verb  of  a  more  specific  character  instead  of  the  gen- 
eral do.  This  is  a  different  kind  of  archaism  from 
what  we  have  in  the  "  do  danger  "  of  147,  where  it 
is  not  the  do.,  but  the  danger^  that  has  a  meaning 
which  it  has  now  lost,  and  for  which  the  modern 
language  uses  another  word. 

229.  Their  opinions  of  success.  —  That  is,  merely, 
of  the  issue,  or  of  what  is  prognosticated  by  the  sac- 
rifice as  likely  to  happen.  Johnson  remarks  (note 
on  Othello.,  iii.  3)  that  successo  is  also  so  used  in 
Italian.  So  likewise  is  succes  in  French.  In  addi- 
tion to  earlier  examples  of  such  a  sense  of  the  Eng- 
lish word,  Boswell  adduces  from  Sidney's  Arcadia, 
"  He  never  answered  me,  but,  pale  and  quaking, 
went  straight  away  ;  and  straight  my  heart  misgave 
16 


2^2  Philological  Commentary,     [act  ii. 

me  some  evil  success;"  and  from  Dr.  Barrow,  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  seventeenth  century,  "  Yea,  to  a 
person  so  disposed,  that  success  which  seemeth  most 
adverse  justly  may  be  reputed  the  best  and  most 
happy."  Shakespeare's  ordinary  employment  of 
the  word,  however,  is  accordant  with  our  present 
usage.  But  see  734?  735*  Sometimes  it  is  used  in 
the  sense  of  our  modern  succession  ;  as  in  A  Winter's 
Tale^  i.  2  :  "  Our  parents'  noble  names.  In  whose 
success  we  are  gentle."  In  the  same  manner  the 
verb  to  succeed^  though  meaning  etymologically  no 
more  than  to  follow,  has  come  to  be  commonly  un- 
derstood, when  used  without  qualification,  only  in  a 
good  sense.  We  still  say  that  George  II.  succeeded 
George  I.,  and  could  even,  perhaps,  say  that  a  person 
or  thing  had  succeeded  very  ill ;  but  when  we  say 
simply,  that  anything  has  succeeded^  we  mean  that 
it  has  had  a  prosperous  issue. 

Shakespeare's   use   of  the  word  success  may  be 
further  illustrated  by  the  following  examples  :  — 

Is  your  blood 
So  madly  hot  that  no  discourse  of  reason, 
Nor  fear  of  bad  success  in  a  bad  cause, 
Can  qualify  the  same? —  Troil.  and  Cress,  ii.  2. 
Commend  me  to  my  brother :  soon  at  night 
I'll  send  him  certain  word  of  my  success. 

Meas.  for  Meas,  i.  5. 
Let  this  be  so,  and  doubt  not  but  success 
Will  fashion  the  event  in  better  shape 
Than  I  can  lay  it  down  in  likelihood. 

Much  Ado  About  Nothing,  iv.  X. 
And  so  success  of  mischief  shall  be  born. 
And  heir  from  heir  shall  hold  this  quarrel  up 

2  Henry  IV.  iv.  3. 
Should  you  do  so,  my  lord, 
My  speech  should  fall  into  such  vile  success 
Which  my  thoughts  aimed  not.  —  Othello^  iil.  3. 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  243 

233.  I  never  stood  on  ceremonies.  —  See  194. 

233.  Recounts  most  horrid  sights.  —  Who  re- 
counts.    As  in  34  and  214. 

233.    The  noise  of  battle  hurtled  in  the  air. — 

The  three  last  Folios  substitute  hurried  for  hurtled. 

Hurtle  is  probably  the   same  word  with  hurl  (of 

which,    again,   whirl  may   be   another   variation). 

Chaucer  uses  it  as  an  active  verb,  in  the  sense  of 

to  push  forcibly  and  with  violence ;    as  in    C.    T. 

2618,— 

And  he  him  hurtleth  with  his  hors  adoun  j  — 

and  again  in  C.  Z".  4717, — 

O  firste  moving  cruel  firmament  I 
With  thy  diurnal  swegh  that  croudest  ay, 
And  hurtlest  all  from  est  til  Occident, 
That  naturally  wold  hold  another  way. 

Its  very  sound  makes  it  an  expressive  word  for  any 
kind  of  rude  and  crushing,  or  "  insupportably  ad- 
vancing," movement. 

233.  Horses  did  neigh.,  and  dying  men  did 
groan.  —  This  is  the  reading  of  the  Second  and  sub- 
sequent Folios.  The  first  has  "  Horses  do  neigh, 
and  dying  men  did  grone."  We  may  confidently 
affirm  that  no  degree  of  mental  agitation  ever  ex- 
pressed itself  in  any  human  being  in  such  a  jumble 
and  confusion  of  tenses  as  this,  —  not  even  insanity 
or-  drunkenness.  The  "  Fierce  fiery  warriors  fight 
upon  the  clouds"  [White  reads  yi?^^^^/],  which  we 
have  a  few  lines  before,  is  not  a  case  in  point.  It  is 
perfectly  natural  in  animated  narrative  or  description 
to  rise  occasionally  from  the  past  tense  to  the  pres- 
ent ;  but  who  ever  heard  of  two  facts  or  circumstances 
equally  past,  strung  together,  as  here,  with  an  and.^ 
and  enunciated  in  the  same  breath,  being  presented 
the  one  as  now  going  on,  the  other  as  only  having 
taken  place? 


244  Philological  Commentary,     [act  ii. 

233.  And  ghosts  did  shriek  cmd  squeal  about  the 
streets.  —  It  is  rare  to  find  Shakespeare  coming  so 
near  upon  the  same  words  in  two  places  as  he  does 
here  and  in  dealing  with  the  same  subject  in  Ham- 
let^ i.  I  :  — 

In  the  most  high  and  palmy  state  of  Rome, 

A  little  ere  the  mightiest  Julius  fell, 

The  graves  stood  tenantless,  and  the  sheeted  dead 

Did  squeak  and  gibber  in  the  Roman  streets. 

This  passage,  however,  is  found  only  in  the  Qiiarto 
editions  of  Hamlet^  and  is  omitted  in  all  the  Folios. 

233.  Beyond  all  use.  —  We  might  still  say  "be- 
yond all  use  and  wont." 

234.  Whose  end  is  purposed^  etc.  —  The  end,  or 
completion,  of  which  is  designed  by  the  gods. 

236.  What  say  the  augurers? — See  194.  The 
preceding  stage  direction  is  in  the  original  edition, 
''''Enter  a  Servant.'' 

238.  In  shame  of  cowardice.  —  For  the  shame  of 
cowardice,  to  put  cowardice  to  shame. 

238.  Ccesar  should  be  a  beast.  —  We  should  now 
say  Caesar  would  be  a  beast.  It  is  the  same  use  of 
shall  where  we  now  use  will  that  has  been  noticed  at 
181.  So  in  Merchant  of  Venice^  i.  2,  Nerissa,  con- 
versing with  her  mistress  Portia  about  her  German* 
suitor,  the  nephew  of  the  Duke  of  Saxony,  says,  "  If 
he  should  ofter  to  choose,  and  choose  the  right  casket, 
you  should  refuse  to  perform  your  father's  will,  if 
you  should  refuse  to  accept  him."  Yet  the  fashion 
of  saying  It  should  appear,  or  It  should  seem  (in- 
stead of  It  would) ^  which  has  come  up  with  the 
revived  study  of  our  old  literature,  is  equally  at  vari- 
ance with  the  principle  by  which  our  modern  em- 
ployment of  shall  and  will  is  regulated. 

238.    We  are  two  lions.  —  The  old  reading,  in  all 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  245 

the  Folios,  is  We  heare  (or  Jiear  in  the  Third  and 
Fourth).  Nobody,  as  far  as  I  am  aware,  has  de- 
fended it,  or  afteCted  to  be  able  to  make  any  sense  of 
it.  Theobald  proposed  We  were,  which  has  been 
generally  adopted.  But  We  are,  as  recommended 
by  Upton,  is  at  once  nearer  to  the  original  and  much 
more  spirited.  It  is  a  singularly  happy  restoration, 
and  one  in  regard  to  which,  I  conceive,  there  can 
scarcely  be  the  shadow  of  a  doubt.  [Collier,  Dyce, 
and  White  have  are;  Hudson,  wereJ\ 

239.  Is  consumed  in  confidence.  —  As  anything  is 
consumed  in  fire. 

240.  For  thy  Jiumour.  —  For  the  gratification  of 
thy  whim  or  caprice.  See  205.  Mr.  Collier's  MS. 
annotator  directs  that  CaBsar  should  here  raise  Cal- 
phurnia,  as  he  had  that  she  should  deliver  the  last 
line  of  her  preceding  speech  kneeling. 

241.  Ccesar,  all  hail!  —  Hail  in  this  sense  is  the 
Saxon  hael  or  hdl,  meaning  hale,  whole,  or  healthy 
(the  modern  German /^^//).  It  ought  rather  to  be 
spelled  hale.  Hail,  frozen  rain,  is  from  haegl, 
haegel,  otherwise  hagol,  hagul,  or  haegol  (in  mod- 
ern German  hagel). 

242.  To  bear  my  greeting.  —  To  greet  in  this 
sense  is  the  Saxon  gretan,  to  go  to  meet,  to  welcome, 
to  salute  {ihQ grussen  of  the  modern  German).  The 
greet  of  the  Scotch  and  other  northern  dialects,  which 
is  found  in  Spenser,  represents  quite  another  Saxon 
verb,  greotan  oy  graetan,  to  lament. 

244.  To  be  afeard.  —  The  common  Scotch  form 
for  afraid  is  ?,'t\S\.  feared,  ox  fear d,  from  the  verb  to 
fear,  taken  in  the  sense  of  to  make  afraid  ;  in  which 
sense  it  is  sometimes  found  in  »Shakespeare ;  as  in 
Measure  for  Measure,  ii.  i  :  — 


246  Philological  Commentary,      [act  ii. 

We  must  not  make  a  scarecrow  of  the  law, 
Setting  it  up  to  fear  the  beasts  of  prey ; 

And  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra^  ii.  6,  — 

Thou  canst  not  fear  us,  Pompej,  with  thy  sails. 

In  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew ^  i.  2,  we  have  in  a 
single  line  (or  two  heraistichs)  both  senses  of  the 
verb  to  fear:  "  Tush  !  tush  !  fear  boys  with  bugs," 
says  Petruchio  in  scorn ;  to  which  his  servant  Gru- 
mio  rejoins,  aside ^  "  For  he  fears  none." 

246.  That  is  enough  to  satisfy  the  senate.  —  Not 
(as  the  words  might  in  other  circumstances  mean) 
enough  to  insure  their  being  satisfied,  but  enough 
for  me  to  do  towards  that  end. 

246.  She  dreamt  to-night  she  saw  my  statue,  — 
It  may  be  mentioned  that  both  Rowe  and  Pope  sub- 
stitute last  nighty  which  would,  indeed,  seem  to  be 
the  most  natural  expression ;  but  it  is  unsupported 
by  any  of  the  old  copies.  —  The  word  statue  is  of 
frequent  occurrence  in  Shakespeare  ;  and  in  general 
it  is  undoubtedly  only  a  dissyllable.  In  the  present 
Play,  for  instance,  in  the  very  next  speech  we  have 

Your  statue  spouting  blood  in  many  pipes. 
And  so  likewise  in  138,  and  again  in  377.     Only  in 
one  line,  which  occurs  in  Richard  III.  iii.  7,  — 

But  like  dumb  statuCs  or  breathing  stones,  -r 
is  it  absolutely  necessary  that  it  should  be  regarded 
as  of  three  syllables,  if  the  received  reading  be  cor- 
rect. In  that  passage  also,  however,  as  in  every 
other,  the  word  in  the  First  Folio  is  printed  simply 
statues.,  exactly  as  it  always  is  in  the  English  which 
we  now  write  and  speak. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  certain  that  statue  was 
frequently  written  statua  in  Shakespeare's  age ;  Ba- 
con, for  example,  always,  I  believe,  so  writes  it ;  and 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C.iiSAR.  247 

it  is  not  impossible  that  its  full  pronunciation  may- 
have  been  always  trisyllabic,  and  that  it  became  a 
dissyllable  only  by  the  two  short  vowels,  as  in  other 
cases,  being  run  together  so  as  to  count  prosodically 
only  for  one. 

"  From  authors  of  the  times,"  says  Reed,  in  a  note 
on  The  Two  Gentlefne7t  of  Verona^  iv.  4,  "  it  would 
not  be  difficult  to  fill  whole  pages  with  instances  to 
prove  that  statue  was  at  that  period  a  trisyllable." 
But  unfortunately  he  does  not  favor  us  with  one  such 
instance.  Nor,  with  the  exception  of  the  single  line 
in  Richard  III.^  the  received  reading  of  which  has 
been  suspected  for  another  reason  {breathiiig  stones 
being  not  improbably,  it  has  been  thought,  a  mis- 
print for  unbreathing  stones)^  has  any  decisive  in- 
stance been  produced  either  by  Steevens,  who  refers 
at  that  passage  to  what  he  designates  as  Reed's 
*'  very  decisive  note,"  or  by  any  of  the  other  com- 
mentators anywhere,  or  by  Nares,  who  also  com- 
mences his  account  of  the  word  in  his  Glossary  by 
telling  us  that  it  "  was  long  used  in  English  as  a 
trisyllable." 

The  only  other  lines  in  Shakespeare  in  which  it 
has  been  conceived  to  be  other  than  a  word  of  two 
syllables  are  the  one  now  under  examination,  and 
another  which  also  occurs  in  the  present  Play,  in 

425-  — 

Even  at  the  base  of  Pompey's  statue. 

These  two  lines,  it  will  be  observed,  are  similarly 
constructed  in  so  far  as  this  word  is  concerned ;  in 
both  the  supposed  trisyllable  concludes  the  verse. 

Now,  we  have  many  verses  terminated  in  exactly 
the  same  manner  by  other  words,  and  yet  it  is  very 
far  from  being  certain  that  such  verses  were  intended 


248  Philological  Commentary,      [act  ii. 

to  be  accounted  verses  of  ten  syllables,  or  were  ever 
so  pronounced. 

First,  there  is  the  whole  class  of  those  ending  with 
words  in  tion  or  sion.  This  termination,  it  is  true, 
usually  makes  two  syllables  in  Chaucer,  and  it  may 
do  so  sometimes,  though  it  does  not  generally,  in 
Spenser ;  it  is  frequently  dissyllabic,  in  indisputable 
instances,  even  with  some  of  the  dramatists  of  the 
early  part  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  particularly 
with  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  [and  so  in  Milton,  H 
Penseroso^  Hymn  on  the  Nativity^  etc.]  ;  but  it  is 
only  on  the  rarest  occasions  that  it  is  other  than 
monosyllabic  in  the  middle  of  the  line  with  Shake- 
speare. Is  it,  then,  to  be  supposed  that  he  employed 
it  habitually  as  a  dissyllable  at  the  end  of  a  line? 
It  is  of  continual  occurrence  in  both  positions. 
For  example,  in  the  following  line  of  the  present 

speech,  — 

But  for  your  private  satisfaction,  — 

can  we  think  that  the  concluding  word  was  intended 
to  have  any  different  pronunciation  from  that  which 
it  has  in  the  line  oi  Romeo  and  Juliet  (ii.  2),  — 

What  satisfaction  canst  thou  have  to-night? 
or  in  this  other  from  Othello  (iii.  3), — 

But  for  a  satisfaction  of  my  thought? 
Is  it  probable  that  it  was  customary  then,  any  more 
than  it  is  now,  to  divide  tion  into  two  syllables  in  the 
one  case  more  than  in  the  other? 

Secondly,  there  are  numerous  verses  terminating 
with  the  verbal  affix  ed^  the  sign  of  the  preterite  in- 
dicative active  or  of  the  past  participle  passive.  This 
termination  is  not  circumstanced  exactly  as  tion  is : 
the  utterance  of  it  as  a  separate  syllable  is  the  rare 
exception  in  our  modern  pronunciation ;  but  it  evi- 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  249 

dently  was  not  so  in  Shakespeare's  day ;  the  distinct 
syllabication  of  the  ed  would  rather  seem  to  have 
been  almost  as  common  then  as  its  absorption  in  the 
preceding  syllable.  For  instance,  when  Juliet,  in 
Romeo  a7id  yuliet^  iii.  2,  repeating  the  Nurse's 
words,  exclaims, — 

Tybalt  is  dead,  and  Romeo  banished  : 
That  banished — that  one  word  banished — 
Hath  slain  ten  thousand  Tybalts,  — 

the  ed  in  That  banished  clearly  makes  a  distinct 
syllable  ;  and,  that  being  the  case,  it  must  be  held  to 
be  equally  such  in  the  two  other  repetitions  of  the 
word.  But  in  other  cases  its  coalescence  with  the 
preceding  syllable  will  only  produce  the  same  effect 
to  which  we  are  accustomed  when  we  disregard  the 
antiquated  pronunciation  of  the  Hon  at  the  end  of  a 
line,  and  read  it  as  one  syllable.  In  the  present 
Play,  for  example,  it  might  be  so  read  in  304,  — 

Thy  brother  by  decree  is  banished,  — 

as  it  was  probably  intended  (in  another  prosodical 
position)  to  be  read  afterwards  in  309,  — 

That  I  was  constant  Cimber  should  be  banished,  — 
and  as  it  must  be  read  in  305,  — 

For  the  repealing  of  my  banished  brother. 

Yet,  although  most  readers  in  the  present  day  would 
elide  the  e  in  all  the  three  instances,  it  ought  to  be 
observed  that  in  the  original  edition  the  word  is 
printed  in  full  in  the  first  and  with  the  apostrophe  in 
the  two  others.  And  this  distinction  in  the  printing 
is  employed  to  indicate  the  pronunciation  through- 
out the  volume.     How  such  a  line  as 

Thy  brother  by  decree  is  banished,  — 
being  a  very  common   prosodical  form  in  Shake- 


250  Philological  Commentary,     [act  ii. 

speare,  —  was  intended  by  him  to  be  read,  or  was 
commonly  read  in  his  day,  must  therefore  remain 
somewhat  doubtful.  If,  however,  the  e  was  elided 
in  the  pronunciation,  such  verses  would  be  prosodi- 
cally  exactly  of  the  same  form  or  structure  with  those, 
also  of  very  frequent  occurrence,  in  which  all  that 
we  have  for  a  fifth  foot  is  the  affix  or  termination 
tion^  on  the  assumption  that  that  was  pronounced 
only  as  one  syllable. 

One  way  of  disposing  of  such  lines  would  be  to 
regard  them  as  a  species  of  hemistich  or  truncated 
line.  Verses  which,  although  not  completed,  are 
correctly  constructed  as  far  as  they  go,  occur  in  every 
Play  in  great  numbers  and  of  all  dimensions ;  and 
those  in  question  would  be  such  verses  wanting  the 
last  syllable,  as  others  do  the  two  or  three  or  four  or 
five  last.  This  explanation  would  take  in  the  case 
of  the  lines,  "  She  dreamt  to-night  she  saw  my 
statue,"  and  "  Even  at  the  base  of  Pompey's  statue," 
and  of  others  similarly  constructed,  supposing  statue 
to  be  only  a  dissyllable,  as  well  as  all  those  having 
m  the  last  foot  only  tion  or  ed.  But  most  probably 
this  particular  kind  of  truncated  line,  consisting  of 
nine  syllables,  would  not  occur  so  frequently  as  it 
does  but  for  the  influence  exerted  by  the  memory  of 
the  old  pronunciation  of  the  two  terminations  just 
mentioned  even  after  it  had  come  to  be  universally 
or  generally  disused.  For  instance,  although  the 
word  satisfaction  had  already  come  in  the  age  of 
Shakespeare  to  be  generally  pronounced  exactly  as 
it  is  at  the  present  day,  the  line  "  But  for  your 
private  satisfaction  "  was  the  more  readily  accepted 
as  a  sufficient  verse  by  reason  of  the  old  syllabication 
of  the  word,  which,  even  by  those  who  had  aban- 
doned  it   (as   Shakespeare   himself   evidently   had 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  251 

done),  was  not  forgotten.  Other  lines  having 
nothing  more  for  their  tenth  syllable  than  the  verbal 
affix  ed^  in  which  also  an  elision  had  become  usual, 
would  be  acted  upon  in  the  same  manner ;  the  ed 
would  still  retain  something  of  the  effect  of  a  sepa- 
rate syllable  even  when  it  had  ceased  to  be  generally 
so  pronounced.  But  after  the  public  ear  had  thus 
become  reconciled  and  accustomed  to  such  a  form 
of  verse,  it  might  be  expected  to  be  sometimes 
indulged  in  by  poetic  writers  when  it  had  to  be 
produced  in  another  way  than  through  the  instru- 
mentality of  the  half  separable  ed  and  the  half 
dissyllabic  Hon.  The  line  "  But  for  your  private 
satisfaction,"  pronounced  as  we  have  assumed  it  to 
have  been,  would  make  such  a  line  as  "  She  dreamt 
to-night  she  saw  my  statue  "  seem  to  have  an  equal 
right  to  be  accounted  legitimate,  seeing  that  its  effect 
upon  the  ear  was  precisely  the  same.  Still  the  con- 
servative principle  in  language  would  keep  the  later 
and  more  decided  deviation  from  the  normal  form 
comparatively  infrequent.  Sometimes  a  singular 
effect  of  suddenness  and  abruptness  is  produced  by 
such  a  form  of  verse ;  as  in  the  sharp  appeal  of 
Menenius,  in  the  opening  scene  of  Coriolanus^  to 
the  loud  and  grandiloquent  leader  of  the  mutinous 
citizens,  — 

What  do  you  think, 
You,  the  great  toe  of  this  assembly? 

Unless,  indeed,  we  are  to  assume  the  verse  here  to 
be  complete  and  regular,  and  that  assembly  is  to  be 
read  as  a  word  of  four  syllables,  as-sein-bl-y.  In  the 
present  Play,  however,  at  294,  we  have  an  instance 
to  which  that  objection  does  not  apply.  The  line 
there  — "  Look,  how  he  makes  to  Caesar :  mark 
him  "  —  is  of  precisely  the  same  rhythm  with  "  She 


252  Philological  Commentary,      [act  ii. 

dreamt  to-night  she  saw  my  statue,"  and  also  with 
the  one  by  which  it  is  immediately  preceded —  ''  I 
fear  our  purpose  is  discovered  "  (in  293),  as  well  as 
with  "  He  says  he  does ;  being  then  most  flattered  " 
(in  195),  and  many  others,  read  (as  it  is  probable 
they  were  intended  to  be)  without  the  distinct  syl- 
labication of  the  ed. 

After  all,  Shakespeare's  word  may  really  have 
been  statua^  as  Reed  and  Steevens  suppose.  This 
is  decidedly  the  opinion  of  Mr.  Dyce,  who,  in  his 
Remarks  on  Air.  Collier's  and  Mr.  Knighfs  edi- 
tions (p.  186),  calls  attention  to  the  following  line 
from  a  copy  of  verses  by  John  Harris,  prefixed  to 
the  1647  Folio  of  the  Plays  of  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher :  — 

Defaced  statua  and  martyr'd  book. 

"  I  therefore  have  not,"  he  adds,  "  the  slightest  doubt 
that  wherever  statue  occurs,  while  the  metre  requires 
three  syllables,  it  is  a  typographical  error  for  statua." 
Perhaps  the  best  way  would  be  to  print  statua  in  all 
cases,  and  to  assume  that  that  was  the  form  which 
Shakespeare  always  wrote.  Statua  would  have  the 
prosodical  value  either  of  a  dissyllable  or  of  a  tris- 
yllable according  to  circumstances,  just  as  Mantua, 
for  instance,  has  throughout  Romeo  and  yuliet, 
where  we  have  in  one  place  such  a  line  as 

For  then  thou  canst  not  pass  to  Mantu-a  (iii.  3), 
or 

But  I  will  write  again  to  Mantu-a  (v.  2), 

and  in  another  such  as 

Sojourn  in  Mantua ;  I'll  find  out  your  man  (iii.  3), 
or 

So  that  my  speed  to  Mantua  there  was  stayed  (v.  2). 

We  have  a  rare  example  of  the   termination  tion 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  253 

forming  a  dissyllable  with  Shakespeare  in  the  middle 
of  a  line  in  Jaques's  description  of  the  Fool  Touch- 
stone {As  Tozc  Like  It^  ii.  2)  :  — 

He  hath  strange  places  crammed 
With  observation,  the  which  he  vents 
In  mangled  forms. 

This  may  be  compared  with  the  similar  prolonga- 
tion of  the  'trance  in  the  sublime  chant  of  Lady 
Macbeth  {Macbeth^  i.  5),  — 

The  raven  himself  is  hoarse 
That  croaks  the  fatal  entrance  of  Duncan 
Under  my  battlements,  — 

or  with  what  we  have  in  the  following  line  in  The 
Two  Gentlemen  of  Verojza^  ii.  4,  — 

And  that  hath  dazzled  my  reason's  light, — 

or  with  this  in  A  Midsummer  Nighfs  Dreanty 
iii.  2, — 

O  me  I  y  on  Juggler !  you  canker-blossom. 

The  name  Henry^  in  like  manner,  occasionally  oc- 
curs as  a  trisyllable  both  in  the  three  Parts  of  Henry 
VI. ^  and  also  in  Richard  III. 

The  following  are  examples  of  what  is  much  more 
common  —  the  extension  or  division  of  similar  com- 
binations at  the  end  of  a  line  :  — 

The  parts  and  graces  of  the  wrestler. 

As  Tou  Like  It,  ii.  2. 
And  lasting,  in  her  sad  remembrance. 

Twelfth  Night,  i.  i. 
The  like  of  him.     Know'st  thou  this  country? 

Ibid.,  i.  3. 
Which  is  as  bad  as  die  with  tickling. 

Much  Ado  About  Nothing,  iii.  i. 
O,  how  this  spring  of  love  resembleth. 

Tvjo  Gent,  of  Ver.,  i.  3. 


354  Philological  Commentary,      [act  ii. 

And  these  two  Dromios,  one  in  semblance. 

Com.  of  Err.  ^  i.  i. 
These  are  the  parents  to  these  children.  —  Ibid. 

Fair  sir,  and  you,  my  merry  mistress. 

Tarn,  of  Shrew ^  iv.  5. 

In  other  cases,  however,  the  line  must  apparently  be 
held  to  be  a  regular  hemistich  (or  truncated  verse) 
of  nine  syllables  ;  as  in 

Of  our  dear  souls.     Meantime,  sweet  sister. 

Twelfth  Night,  v.  i. 

I'll  follow  you  and  tell  what  answer. 

3  Henry  VI.,  iv.  3. 

Be  valued  'gainst  your  wife's  commandment. 

Mer.  of  Ven.,  iv.  i. 

Unless,  indeed,  in  this  last  instance  we  ought  not  to 
read  coTninandejnent  (in  four  syllables),  as  Spenser 
occasionally  has  it ;  although  I  am  not  aware  of  the 
occurrence  of  such  a  form  of  the  word  elsewhere  in 
Shakespeare. 

246.  And  these  does  she  apply  for  'war7iings  and 
portents.  • —  This  is  the  reading  of  all  the  Folios.  It 
is  not  quite  satisfactory ;  and  the  suspected  corrup- 
tion has  been  attempted  to  be  cured  in  various  ways. 
Shakespeare's  habitual  accentuation  oi portent  seems 
to  have  been  on  the  last  syllable.  If  the  passage 
were  in  any  one  of  certain  others  of  the  Plays,  I 
should  be  inclined  to  arrange  the  lines  as  follows  :  — 

And  these  does  she  apply  for  warnings  and 
Portents  of  evils  imminent;  and  on  her  knee 
Hath  begged  that  I  will  stay  at  home  to-day. 

The  crowding  of  short  syllables  which  this  would 
occasion  in  the  second  line  is  much  less  harsh  and 
awkward  than  what  the  received  arrangement  pro- 
duces in  the  first.  But  so  slight  a  monosyllable  as 
and  in  the  tenth  place  would  give  us  a  structure  of 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  255 

verse  of  which,  although  common  in  several  of  the 
other  Plays,  we  have  no  example  in  this.  See  Prol- 
egoi7iena^  sect.  vi. 

246.  Of  evils  imminent.  —  This  conjectural  emen- 
dation, which  appears  to  be  Warburton's,  had  long 
been  generally  accepted ;  but  it  has  now  the  author- 
ity of  Mr.  Collier's  manuscript  aunotator.  The  read- 
ing in  all  the  old  copies  is  ''''And  evils."  [Dyce, 
Hudson,  and  White  have  a^idr^ 

247.  For  tinctures^  etc. —  Tinctures  and  stains 
are  understood  both  by  Malone  and  Steevens  as 
carrying  an  allusion  to  the  practice  of  persons  dip- 
ping their  handkerchiefs  in  the  blood  of  those  whom 
they  regarded  as  martyrs.  And  it  must  be  confessed 
that  the  general  strain  of  the  passage,  and  more 
especially  the  expression  "  shall  press  for  tinctures," 
etc.,  will  not  easily  allow  us  to  reject  this  interpreta- 
tion. Yet  does  it  not  make  the  speaker  assign  to 
Caesar  by  implication  the  verj'  kind  of  death  Cal- 
phurnia's  apprehension  of  which  he  professes  to  re- 
gard as  visionary  ?  The  pressing  for  tinctures  and 
stains,  it  is  true,  would  be  a  confutation  of  so  much 
of  Calphurnia's  dream  as  seemed  to  imply  that  the 
Roman  people  would  be  delighted  with  his  death,  — 

Many  lusty  Romans 
Came  smiling,  and  did  bathe  their  hands  in  it. 

Do  we  refine  too  much  in  supposing  that  this  incon- 
sistency between  the  purpose  and  the  language  of 
Decius  is  intended  by  the  poet,  and  that  in  this  brief 
dialogue  between  him  and  Cajsar,  in  which  the  latter 
sutlers  himself  to  be  so  easily  won  over,  — persuaded 
and  relieved  by  the  very  words  that  ought  naturally 
to  have  confirmed  his  fears,  —  we  are  to  feel  the 
presence  of  an  unseen  power  driving  on  both  the 


256  Philological  Commentary,      [act  ii. 

unconscious  prophet  and  the  blinded  victim  ?    Com- 
pare 407. 

Johnson  takes  both  tinctures  and  cognizance  in 
the  heraldic  sense  as  meaning  distinctive  marks  of 
honor  and  armorial  bearings  (in  part  denoted  by- 
colors).  But  the  stains  and  relics  are  not  so  easily 
to  be  accounted  for  on  this  supposition  ;  neither 
would  it  be  very  natural  to  say  that  men  should 
press  to  secure  such  distinctions.  The  speech  alto- 
gether Johnson  characterizes  as  "  intentionally  pom- 
pous "  and  "  somewhat  confused." 

248.  Aft  to  be  re7zdered.  —  Easy  and  likely  to  be 
thrown  out  in  return  or  retaliation  for  your  refusing 
to  come.     [Compare  344.] 

248.  Shall  they  not  ijohisfer? — We  should  now 
say  "  Will  they  not?  "     See  238. 

248.  To  your  froceediitg.  —  To  your  advance- 
ment. So  in  Gloster's  protestation,  in  Rich,  III, 
iv.  4,  — 

Be  opposite  all  planets  of  good  luck 

To  my  proceeding!  if  with  dear  heart's  love, 

Immaculate  devotion,  holj  thoughts, 

I  tender  not  thy  beauteous  princely  daughter,  — 

that  is,  to  my  prospering,  as  we  should  now  say. 

248.  And  reason  to  my  love  is  liable.  —  As  if  he 
had  said,  And,  if  I  have  acted  wrong  in  telling  you, 
my  excuse  is,  that  my  reason  where  you  are  con- 
cerned is  subject  to  and  is  overborne  by  my  affec- 
tion.    See  67. 

2^9.  In  the  original  stage  direction  the  name  of 
Publius  stands  last,  instead  of  first. 

251.  Are  you  stirred.  —  We  have  lost  this  appli- 
cation of  stirred  (for  out  of  bed).  The  word  now 
commonly  used,  astir.^  does  not  occur  in  Shake- 
speare ;    and,  what  is  remarkable,  it  has  hitherto, 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  257 

although  we  have  long  been  in  the  habit  of  applying 
it  freely  in  various  other  ways  as  well  as  in  this 
sense,  escaped  all  or  most  of  our  standard  lexicog- 
raphers. I  do  not  find  it  either  in  Todd's  Johnson, 
or  in  Webster,  or  in  Richardson,  or  in  Walker,  or 
in  Smart.  [It  is  given  by  Worcester,  but  is  not  to- 
be  found  in  the  last  revision  of  Webster.]  Of 
course,  the  emphasis  is  on  you. 

252.  'Tis  strucken  eight,  —  Shakespeare  uses  allj 
the  three  forms,  str^uck^  strucken^  and  stricken^  of' 
which  the  existing  language  has  preserved  only  the 
first.  See  192.  Mr.  Collier  has  here  stricken. 
Strictly  speaking,  of  course,  the  mention  by  an  old 
Roman  of  the  striking  of  an  hour  involves  an 
anachronism.  Nor  is  the  mode  of  expression  that  of 
the  time  when  here,  and  in  271,  what  we  now  call 
eight  a-nd  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  are  spoken  of 
as  the  eighth  and  ninth  hours. 

253.  That  revels  long  o'  nights.  —  See  65.  Here 
again  it  is  a-nights  in  the  original  text. 

255.  Bid  them  prepare'.  —  The  use  oi  prepare 
thus  absolutely  (for  to  make  preparation)  is  hardly 
now  the  current  language,  although  it  might  not 
seem  unnatural  in  verse,  to  which  some  assumption 
or  imitation  of  the  phraseology  of  the  past  is  not 
forbidden. 

255.  I  have  an  hour's  talk^  etc.  —  Hour  is  here  a 
dissyllable,  as  such  words  often  are. 

258.  That  every  like  is  not  the  same.  —  That  to 
be  like  a  thing  is  not  always  to  be  that  thing,  —  said 
in  reference  to  Cassar's  *'  We,  like  friends."  So  the 
old  Scottish  proverb,  "  Like's  an  ill  mark  ; "  and  the 
common  French  saying,  as  it  has  been  sometimes 
converted,  "  Le  vraisemblable  n'est  pas  toujours  le 
vrai."  The  remark  is  surely  to  be  supposed  to  be 
17 


258  Philological  Commentary,     [act  ii. 

made  aside,  as  well  as  that  of  Trebonius  in  256, 
although  neither  is  so  noted  in  the  old  copies,  and 
the  modern  editors,  while  they  retain  the  direction 
to  that  effect  inserted  by  Rowe  at  256,  have  generally 
struck  out  the  similar  one  inserted  by  Pope  here. 
Mr.  Collier,  I  see,  gives  both  ;  but  whether  on  the 
authority  of  his  MS.  annotator  does  not  appear.  — 
In  the  same  manner  as  here,  in  Measure  for  MeaS' 
ure^  V.  2,  to  the  Duke's  remark,  "  This  is  most  likely^' 
Isabella  replies,  "  O  that  it  wpre  as  like  as  it  is 
true." 

258.  The  heart  of  Brutus  yearns  to  think  upon, 
—  Teams  is  earnes  in  the  original  text.  It  has  been 
generally  assumed  that  yearn  and  ear^z  are  radically 
the  same ;  the  progress  of  the  meaning  probably 
being,  it  has  been  supposed,  to  feel  strongly  —  to 
desire  or  long  for  —  to  endeavor  after  —  to  attain  or 
acquire.  But  Mr.  Wedgwood  has  lately,  in  a  paper 
published  in  the  Proceedings  of  the  Philological 
Society^  v.  33  (No.  105,  read  21  Feb.,  1851),  stated 
strong  reasons  for  doubting  whether  there  be  really 
any  connection  between  earn  and  either  yearn  or 
ear?iest.  The  fundamental  notion  involved  in  earn^ 
according  to  the  view  taken  by  Mr.  Wedgwood,  is 
that  of  harvest  or  reaping.  The  primary  and  essen- 
tial meaning  oi yearn  and  earnest^  again  (which  are 
unquestionably  of  the  same  stock),  may  be  gathered 
from  the  modern  German  gern^  willingly,  readily, 
eagerly,  which  in  Anglo-Saxon  was  georn^  and  was 
used  as  an  adjective,  signifying  desirous,  eager,  in- 
tent. We  now  commonly  employ  the  verb  to  yearn 
only  in  construction  with  for  or  after^  and  in  the 
sense  of  to  long  for  or  desire  strongly.  Perhaps  the 
radical  meaning  may  not  be  more  special  than  to  be 
strongly  affected.     In  the  present  passage  it  evidently 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  259 

means  to  be  stung  or  wrung  with  sorrow  and  regret. 
Shakespeare's  construction  of  the  word  yearn^  in  so 
far  as  it  differs  from  that  now  in  use,  may  be  illus- 
trated by  the  following  examples  :  — 

It  yearns  me  not  if  men  my  garments  wear. 

Hen.  V.  iv.  3. 
O,  how  it  yearned  my  heart  when  I  beheld. 

RicJi.  II.  V.  5. 
This  is  the  exclamation  of  the  groom.  So  Mrs. 
Quickly,  in  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor.^  iii.  5 
(speaking  also,  perhaps,  in  the  style  of  an  unedu- 
cated person),  "  Well,  she  laments,  sir,  for  it,  that  it 
would  yearn  your  heart  to  see  it." 

"  To  think  upon  that  every  like  is"  would  not  have 
been  said  in  Shakespeare's  day,  any  more  than  it 
would  be  in  ours,  except  under  cover  of  the  inversion. 

Scene  III.  259.  Security  gives  way  to.  —  In  this 
sense  (of  leaving  a  passage  open)  we  should  now 
rather  say  to  make  way  for.  To  give  way  has  come 
to  mean  to  yield  and  break  under  pressure.  [Com- 
pare Milton,  P,  L.  i.  638  foil.  In  Trail,  and  Cress, 
ii.  2,  Hector  says, — 

The  wound  of  peace  is  surety, 
Surety  secure,] 

The  heading  of  this  scene  in  the  original  text  is 
merely  Enter  Artemidorus. 

Artemidorus,  who  was  a  lecturer  on  the  Greek 
rhetoric  at  Rome,  had,  according  to  Plutarch,  ob- 
tained his  knowledge  of  the  conspiracy  from  some 
of  his  hearers,  who  were  friends  of  Brutus,  that 
is,  probably,  through  expressions  unintentionally 
dropped  by  them. 

259.  Thy  lover.  —  As  we  might  still  say,  "  One 
who  loves  thee."     It  is  nearly  equivalent  to  friend, 


26o  Philological  Commentary,      [act  ii. 

and  was  formerly  in  common  use  in  that  sense. 
Thus,  in  Psahn  xxxviii.  ii,  we  have  in  the  old  ver- 
sion, "  My  lovers  and  my  neighbours  did  stand  look- 
ing upon  my  trouble,"  and  also  in  the  common  ver- 
sion, ''  My  lovers  and  my  friends  stand  aloof  from  my 
sore."  —  So  afterwards  in  374  Brutus  begins  his 
address  to  the  people,  "  Romans,  countrymen,  and 
lovers."  See  other  instances  from  private  letters  in 
Chalmers's  Apology^  165.  Another  change,  which 
has  been  undergone  by  this  and  some  other  words  is 
that  they  are  now  usually  applied  only  to  men,  where- 
as formerly  they  were  common  to  both  sexes.  This 
has  happened,  for  instance,  to  paraviour  and  villain^ 
as  well  as  to  lover.  But  villain^  as  already  noticed 
(186),  is  still  a  term  of  reproach  for  a  woman,  as  well 
as  for  a  man,  in  some  of  the  provincial  dialects. 
And,  although  we  no  longer  call  a  woman  a  lover, 
we  still  say  of  a  man  and  woman  that  they  are  lovers, 
or  a  pair  of  lovers.  I  find  the  term  lover  distinctly 
applied  to  a  woman  in  so  late  a  work  as  Smollett's 
Count  I^at horn ^  published  in  1754:  "These  were 
alarming  symptoms  to  a  lover  of  her  delicacy  and 
pride."     Vol.  i.  ch.  10. 

259.  Out  of  the  teeth  of  emulation. — 'As  envy 
(see  187)  is  commonly  used  by  Shakespeare  in  the 
sense  of  hatred  or  malice,  so  emulation^  as  here,  is 
with  him  often  envy  or  malicious  rivalry.  There 
are  instances,  however,  of  his  employing  the  word, 
and  also  the  cognate  terms  emulator^  efnulate^  and 
e?nulous^  not  in  an  unfavorable  sense. 

259.  With  traitors  do  contrive.  —  The  word  con- 
trive  in  the  common  acceptation  is  a  very  irregular 
derivative  from  the  French  coiitrouver^  an  obsolete 
compound  of  trouver  (to  find).  The  English  word 
appears  to  have  been  anciently  written  both  controve 


sc.  IV.]  Julius  C^sar.  261 

and  contreve  (see  Chaucer's  JRom.  of  the  Rose^ 
4249  and  7547).  Spenser,  however,  has  a  learned 
contrive  of  his  own  (though  somewhat  irregularly 
formed  too),  meaning  to  spend,  consume,  wear  out, 
from  the  Latin  contero^  contrivi  (from  which  we 
have  also  contrite^.  And  Shakespeare  also,  at  least 
in  one  place,  uses  the  word  in  this  sense :  — 

Please  you  we  may  contrive  this  afternoon. 

Tarn,  of  Skreiv,  i.  2. 

Scene  IV.  The  heading  of  this  scene  in  the 
original  text  is  only  ''''Enter  Portia  and  Lucius. ^^ 

260.  Get  thee  gone.  —  An  idiom  ;  that  is  to  say, 
a  peculiar  form  of  expression,  the  principle  of  which 
cannot  be  carried  out  beyond  the  particular  instance. 
Thus  we  cannot  say  either  Make  thee  gone.,  or  He 
got  him  (or  himself)  gone.*  Phraseologies,  on  the 
contrary,  which  are  not  idiomatic  are  paradigmatic, 
or  may  sei've  as  models  or  moulds  for  others  to  any 
extent.  All  expression  is  divided  into  these  two 
kinds.  And  a  corresponding  division  may  be  made 
of  the  inflected  parts  of  speech  in  any  language. 
Thus,  for  instance,  in  Greek  or  Latin,  while  certain 
parts  of  speech  are  indeclinable,  those  that  are  de- 
clined are  either  paradigmatic  (that  is,  exemplary), 
such  as  the  noun  and  the  verb,  or  non-exemplary, 
such  as  the  articles  and  the  pronouns. 

262.   O  constancy.  —  Not  exactly  our  present  con- 

*  [White  asks  here,  "Is  this  true?  We  do  not;  but  can 
we  not?  i.  e.  in  accordance  with  the  laws  of  thought  and 
the  principles  of  our  language.  .  .  .  Is  there  any  objection 
but  lack  of  usage  against  '  Make  thee  gone,'  or  '  He  got  him 
gone'  ?"  Of  course  "  lack  of  usage"  is  the  only  objection. 
In  saying  that  "  we  cannot"  Craik  means  merely  that  usage 
forbids  us  to  say  "  Make  thee  gone,"  etc. ;  usage-, 

^uem  penes  arbitrium  est  etjus  et  norma  loquendi."] 


262  Philological  Commentary,      [act  ii. 

stancy;  rather  what  we  should  now  call  firmness  or 
resolution.  In  the  same  sense  afterwards,  in  296, 
Brutus  says,  "  Cassius,  be  constant."  The  French 
have  another  use  of  constant^  —  //  est  constant  (It 
is  certain),  —  borrowed  from  the  Latin  impersonal 
constat^  and  not  unknown  to  co?isto.     See  309. 

262.  I  have  a  man^s  mind^  but  a  woman^s  tnight, 
—  That  is,  but  only  a  woman's  might. 

262.  How  hard  it  is  for  women  to  keep  coun- 
sel. —  Counsel  in  this  phrase  is  what  has  been  im- 
parted in  consultation.  In  the  phrases  To  take 
counsel  and  To  hold  counsel  it  means  simply  con- 
sultation. The  two  words  Couizsel  and  Council 
have  in  some  of  their  applications  got  a  little  inter- 
mingled and  confused,  although  the  Latin  Co7isiliutn 
and  Concilium^  from  which  they  are  severally  de- 
rived, have  no  connection.  A  rather  perplexing 
instance  occurs  in  a  passage  towards  the  conclusion 
of  Bacon's  Third  Essay,  entitled  Of  Unity  in  Re- 
ligion^ which  is  commonly  thus  given  in  the  modern 
editions :  "  Surely  in  counsels  concerning  religion, 
that  counsel  of  the  apostle  would  be  prefixed  —  Ira 
hominis  non  implet  justitiam  Dei.^^  But  as  pub- 
lished by  Bacon  himself,  if  we  may  trust  Mr.  Singer's 
late  elegant  reprint,  the  words  are,  "  in  Councils 
concerning  Religion,  that  Counsel  of  the  Apostle — ." 
What  are  we  to  say,  however,  to  the  Latin  version, 
executed  under  Bacon's  own  superintendence?  — 
*'  Certe  optandum  esset,  ut  in  omnibus  circa  Reli- 
gionem  consiliis,  ante  oculos  hominum  prsefigeretur 
monitum  illud  Apostoli."  I  quote  from  the  Elzevir 
edition  of  1662,  p.  20.  Does  this  support  Councils 
or  Counsels  concerning  Religion  ?  Other  somewhat 
doubtful  instances  occur  in  the  20th  Essay ^  entitled 


sc.  IV.]  Julius  C^sar.  263 

*'  Of  Counsel,"  and  in  the  29th,  "  Of  the  True  Great- 
ness of  Kingdoms  and  Estates." 

266.  /  heard  a  bustling  rumour^  like  a  fray.  — 
Mr.  Knight  has  by  mistake  "  I  hear."  Rumor  is 
here  (though  not  generally  in  Shakespeare)  only  a 
noise  ;  a  fray  is  a  fight,  from  the  French  ;  bustle  is 
apparently  connected  with  busy^  which  is  a  Saxon 
word. 

267.  Sooth^  7nadam.  —  Sooth^  when  used  at  all, 
may  still  mean  either  truth  or  true.  We  see  that  in 
Shakespeare's  time  it  also  meant  truly.  The  Saxon 
soth  is  in  like  manner  used  in  all  these  different  ways. 

268.  Come  hither^  fellow;  which  way  hast  thou 
been  ?  —  The  line,  which  stands  thus  in  the  original 
edition,  and  makes  a  perfect  verse,  is  commonly  cut 
up  into  two  hemistichs.  But  "  Which  way  hast  thou 
been  "  is  not  a  possible  commencement  of  a  verse, 
unless  we  were  to  lay  an  emphasis  on  thou.,  which 
would  be  absurd.  Our  bee7t.,  it  may  be  noted,  is 
here,  and  commonly  elsewhere,  bin  in  the  old  text, 
as  the  word  is  still  pronounced.  Tyrwhitt  would 
substitute  Artemidorus  for  the  Soothsayer  in  this 
scene  ;  but  the  change  is  not  necessary.  It  is  to  be 
observed  that  we  have  both  Artemidorus  and  the 
Soothsayer  in  the  next  scene  (the  First  of  the  Third 
Act).  Nevertheless,  there  is  some  apparent  want 
of  artifice  in  what  may  be  almost  described  as  the 
distribution  of  one  part  between  two  dramatis  per' 
sonce;  and  there  may  possibly  be  something  wrong. 

270.  What  is^t  o'clock  ?  —  In  the  original  text  a 
clocke.     See  65. 

276.  Why.,  knowest  thou  any  harm's  intended 
towards  him  ?  —  Any  harm  that  is  intended.  As 
in  34  and  214. 

277.  None  that  I  know^  etc.  —  Hanmer  and  Stee- 


264  Philological  Commentary,     [act  ii. 

vens  object  to  the  may  chance  here,  as  at  once  un- 
necessary to  the  sense  and  injurious  to  the  prosody. 
We  should  not  have  much  missed  the  two  words, 
certainly  ;  but  they  may  be  borne  with.  The  line  is 
bisected  in  the  original  edition ;  but,  if  it  is  to  be 
accepted,  it  is  better,  perhaps,  to  consider  it  as  a 
prolonged  verse.  In  this  somewhat  doubtful  instance 
the  rhythm  will  be  certainly  that  of  an  Alexandrine. 
Let  the  three  words  know  will  be^  and  also  the  three 
fear  7nay  chance^  at  any  rate,  be  each  and  all  em- 
phatically enunciated. 

277.  /'//  get  me.  —  Compare  this  with  get  thee 
gone  in  260,  and  also  with^^^j^^^^  home  in  i. 

277.  \^A  flace  more  void.  —  For  void  =  empty,  as 
here,  see  Gen.  i.  2  ;  i  Kings  xxii.  10.  So  Hall, 
Hen.  VIII. :  "  and  yet  was  in  euery  voyde  place 
spangels  of  golde."  In  Wiclif 's  Bible,  Luke  xx.  10, 
we  have,  "  beeten  him,  and  letten  him  go  voyde."] 

278.  Ay  me  I  how  weak  a  thing.  —  This  (written 
Aye  me)  is  the  reading  of  all  the  old  copies.  That 
of  the  modern  editions,  Mr.  Collier's  one-volume 
included,  is  '-^Ah  me  !  "  The  readers  of  Milton  will 
remember  his  "  Ay  me !  I  fondly  dream.  Had  ye 
been  there,"  and,  again,  "  Ay  me !  whilst  thee  the 
shores  and  sounding  seas  Wash  far  away,"  &c. 
{Lycidas^  ^6  and  154).  So  also  in  Comus,  511,  and 
Samson  Agonistes,  330.  Even  in  Paradise  Lost 
we  have  "  Ay  me !  they  little  know  How  dearly  I 
abide  that  boast  so  vain"  (iv.  ZG).,  and  "Ay  me! 
that  fear  Comes  thundering  back  with  dreadful  revo- 
lution" (x.  813),  —  although  in  the  latter  passage  ah 
has  been  substituted  in  many  of  the  modern  editions. 
Ah  me  is  a  form  which  he  nowhere  uses. 

278.  The  heart  of  woman  is  I  etc.  —  The  broken 
lines  here  seem  to  require  to  be  arranged  as  I  have 


sc.  IV.]  Julius  C^sar.  265 

given  them.  We  do  not  get  a  complete  verse  (if 
that  were  an  object)  by  the  incongruous  annexation 
of  the  '*  O  Brutus  "  to  the  previous  exclamation. 

278.  Brutus  hath  a  suit^  etc.  —  This  she  addresses 
in  explanation  to  the  boy,  w^hose  presence  she  had 
for  a  moment  forgotten. 

278.  Commend  me  to  my  lord.  —  In  this  idiomatic 
or  formal  phrase  the  word  cofnmend  has  acquired 
a  somewhat  peculiar  signification.  The  resolution 
would  seem  to  be,  Give  my  commendation  to  him, 
or  Say  that  I  commend  myself  to  him,  meaning  that 
I  commit  and  recommend  myself  to  his  affectionate 
remembrance.  So  we  have  in  Latin  "  Me  totum 
tuo  amori  fideique  commendo  "  (  Cicero^  Epist.  ad 
Att.  iii.  20)  ;  and  "  Tibi  me  totum  commendo  atque 
trado  "  {Id.  Epist.  Fain.  ii.  6).  At  the  same  time, 
in  considering  the  question  of  the  origin  and  proper 
meaning  of  the  English  phrase  the  custom  of  what 
was  called  Commendation  in  the  Feudal  System  is 
not  to  be  overlooked  :  the  vassal  was  said  to  commend 
himself  to  the  person  whom  he  selected  for  his  lord. 
Commend  is  etymologically  the  same  word  with 
command;  and  both  forms,  with  their  derivatives, 
have  been  applied,  in  Latin  and  the  modern  tongues 
more  exclusively  based  upon  it,  as  well  as  in  Eng- 
lish, in  a  considerable  variety  of  ways. 

ACT  III. 

Scene  I.  All  the  heading  that  we  have  to  this 
Act  in  the  original  copy,  where  the  whole  is  thrown 
into  one  scene,  is,  ''''Flourish.  Fitter  Ccesar^  Bru- 
tus^  Cassius.,  Caska.,  Decius.,  Metellus.,  Trebonius^ 
Cynna^  Anto?zy,  Bepidus,  Artemidorus,  Publius., 
and  the  Soothsayer^*  —  A  Flourish  is  defined  by 


266  Philological  Commentary,    [act  hi, 

Johnson  "  a  kind  of  musical  prelude."  It  is  com- 
monly, if  not  always,  of  trumpets.  The  word  is  of 
continual  occurrence  in  the  stage  directions  of  our 
old  Plays ;  and  Shakespeare  has,  not  only  in  his 
Richard  III.  iv.  4, 

A  flourish,  trumpets !  —  strike  alarum,  drums ! 
but  in  Titus  Andronicus^  iv.  2, 

Why  do  the  emperor's  trumpets  flourish  thus? 

282.  Doth  desire  you  to  der-read.  —  Over  (or  der^ 
in  composition  has  four  meanings:  i.  Throughout 
(or  over  all),  which  is  its  effect  here  (answering  to 
the  -per  in  the  equivalent  peruse)  ;  2.  Beyond,  or  in 
excess,  as  in  overleaps  overpay ;  3.  Across,  as  in 
one  sense  o^  overlook ;  4.  Down  upon,  as  in  another 
sense  of  the  same  verb. 

282.  At  your  best  leisure.  —  Literally,  at  the  lei- 
sure that  is  best  for  your  convenience,  that  best  suits 
you.  The  phrase,  however,  had  come  to  be  under- 
stood as  implying  that  the  leisure  was  also  to  be  as 
early  as  could  be  made  convenient. 

282.  This  his  humble  suit.  —  Sttit  is  from  sue 
(which  we  also  have  in  composition  in  e7tsue^  issue^ 
pursue)  ;  and  sue  is  the  French  suivre  (which, 
again,  is  from  the  Latin  sequor^  secutus).  A  suit 
of  clothes  is  a  set,  one  ^\&zq,  following  or  correspond- 
ing to  another.  Suite  is  the  same  word,  whether 
used  for  a  retinue,  or  for  any  other  kind  of  succession 
(such  as  a  suite  of  apartments). 

284.  That  touches  us  ?  Ourself  shall  be  last  served, 
—  This  is  the  correction  of  Mr.  Collier's  MS.  annota- 
tor.  ["  A  specious,  but  entirely  needless  change," 
as  White  well  calls  it.]  The  common  reading  is, 
*'  What  touches  us  ourself  shall  be  last  served."  To 
serve^  or  attend  to,  a  person  is  a  familiar  form  of 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  267 

expression ;  to  speak  of  a  thing  as  served^  in  the 
sense  of  attended  to,  would,  it  is  apprehended,  be 
unexampled.  The  "  us  ourself,"  however,  would 
be  unobjectionable.  Whatever  may  be  the  motive 
or  view  which  has  led  to  the  substitution  of  the 
plural  for  the  singular  personal  pronoun  in  certain 
expressions,  it  is  evident  that  the  plurality  of  the 
pronoun  could  not  conveniently  be  allowed  to  carry 
along  with  it  a  corresponding  transformation  of  all 
the  connected  words.  Although  an  English  king 
might  speak  of  himself  as  We^  it  would  be  felt  that 
the  absurdity  was  too  great  if  he  were  to  go  on  to 
say,  *'  We  the  Kings  of  England."  Hence  such 
awkward  combinations  as  "  We  ourself,"  or  "  Us 
ourself;  "  which,  however,  are  only  exemplifications 
of  the  same  construction  which  we  constantly  em- 
ploy in  common  life  when  in  addressing  an  individ- 
ual we  say  "  You  yourself."  The  same  contradiction, 
indeed,  is  involved  in  the  word  Tourself  standing 
alone.  It  may  be  observed,  however,  that  the  verb 
always  follows  the  number  of  the  pronoun  which  is 
its  nominative,  so  that  there  is  never  any  violation 
of  the  ordinary  rule  of  grammatical  concord.  Upon 
the  nature  of  the  word  Self^  see  Latham,  £ng. 
Lan,  ^th  Ed.  §  661.  See  also  the  note  on  54,  Did 
lose  his  lustre. 

288.  There  is  no  such  stage  direction  in  the  old 
editions  as  we  now  have  at  the  end  of  this  speech. 

291.  The  stage  direction  attached  to  this  speech 
is  also  modern. 

294.  Look.,  how  he  makes  to  Ccesar.  —  We  should 
now  say,  he  makes  up  to.     And  we  also  say  to  make 

I  for.^  with  another  meaning.  —  For  the  prosody  of 
this  verse,  see  note  on  246. 

295.  Casca,  be   sudden.^  etc.  —  We    should    now 


268  Philological  Commentary,    [act  hi. 

rather  say,  Be  quick.  Prevention  is  hiiiderance  by- 
something  happening  before  that  which  is  hindered. 
See  147. 

295.  Cassius  on  CcEsar  never  shall  turn  back.  — 
The  reading  of  all  the  old  copies  is  "  or  Cassar,"  and 
it  is  retained  by  most  or  all  of  the  modern  editors. 
It  is  interpreted  by  Ritson  as  meaning  "  Either 
Caesar  or  I  shall  never  return  alive."  But  to  turn 
back  cannot  mean  to  return  alive,  or  to  return  in  any 
way.  The  most  it  could  mean  would  be  to  make  a 
movement  towards  returning ;  which  is  so  far  from 
being  the  same  thing  with  the  accomplished  return 
which  this  translation  would  have  it  to  imply  that  it 
may  almost  be  said  to  be  the  very  opposite.  Besides, 
even  if  to  turn  back  could  mean  here  to  leave  or  get 
away  from  the  Capitol  alive,  although  Cassius,  by 
plunging  his  dagger  into  his  own  heart,  would  indeed 
have  prevented  himself  from  so  escaping,  how  was 
that  act  to  bring  with  it  any  similar  risk  to  Caesar? 
I  will  slay  myself,  Cassius  is  supposed  to  say,  where- 
by either  I  shall  lose  my  life  or  Caesar  will  his. 
The  emendation  of  "or  Caesar"  into  '''•on  Caesar" 
was  proposed  and  is  strongly  supported  by  Malone, 
although  he  did  not  venture  to  introduce  it  into  his 
text.  [White  adopts  it.]  We  have  probably  the 
opposite  misprint  of  on  for  or  in  the  speech  of  Pau- 
lina in  the  concluding  scene  of  The  Winter* s  Tale^ 
where  the  old  copies  give  us,  — 

Then,  all  stand  still : 
On  :  those  that  think  it  is  unlawful  business 
I  am  about,  let  them  depart,  — 

although  Mr.  Knight  adheres  to  the  on  and  the 
point.     [White  has  or.^ 

296.  Cassius,  be  constant.  —  See  262. 

296.  Popilius  Lena  speaks  not  of  our  purposes. — 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  269 

Although  this  verse  has  twelve  syllables,  it  is  not  for 
that  an  Alexandrine.  Its  rhythm  is  the  same  as  if 
the  last  word  had  been  merely  the  dissyllable  pur- 
pose^ or  even  a  monosyllable,  such  as  act  or  deed. 
It  is  completed  by  the  strong  syllable  pur-  in  the 
tenth  place,  and  the  two  unaccented  syllables  that 
follow  have  no  prosodical  effect.  Of  course,  there 
is  also  an  oratorical  emphasis  on  our.,  although  stand- 
ing in  one  of  those  places  which  do  not  require  an 
accented  syllable,  but  which  it  is  a  mistake  to  sup- 
pose incapable  of  admitting  such. 

296.  Ccesar  doth  not  change.  —  In  his  manner  of 
looking,  or  the  expression  of  his  countenance. 

297.  The  stage  direction  attached  to  this  speech  is 
modern. 

299.  He  is  addressed.  —  To  dress  is  the  same 
word  with  to  direct.  Immediately  from  the  French 
dresser.,  it  is  ultimately  from  the  Latin  dirigere.,  and 
its  literal  meaning,  therefore,  is,  to  make  right  or 
straight.  Formerly,  accordingly,  anything  was  said 
to  be  dressed  or  addressed  when  it  was  in  complete 
order  for  the  purpose  to  which  it  was  to  be  applied. 
Thus,  in  2  Henry  IV.  iv.  4,  the  King  says,  "  Our 
navy  is  addressed,  our  power  collected  ;  "  and  in  A 
Midsuinmer  Night's  Dream.,  v.  i,  Philostratc,  the 
Master  of  the  Revels,  makes  his  official  announce- 
ment to  Theseus  thus :  "  So  please  your  Grace, 
the  prologue  is  addressed."  So  He  is  addressed 
in  the  present  passage  means  merely  He  is  ready. 
The  primary  sense  of  the  word  is  still  retained  in 
such  phrases  as  To  dress  the  ranks  ;  and  it  is  not  far 
departed  from  in  such  as  To  dress  cloth  or  leather. 
To  dress  a  wound,  To  dress  meat.  The  notion  of 
decoration  or  embellishment  which  we  commonly 
associate  with  dressing  does  not  enter  fully  even  into 


270  Philological  Commentary,    [act  hi. 

the  expression  To  dress  the  hair.  In  To  redress^ 
meaning  to  set  to  rights  again  that  which  has  gone 
wrong,  to  make  that  which  was  crooked  once  more 
straight,  we  have  the  simple  etymological  or  radical 
import  of  the  word  completely  preserved.  To  re- 
dress is  to  re-rectify. 

The  following  are  some  examples  of  the  employ- 
ment of  the  word  addressed  by  writers  of  the  latter 
part  of  the  seventeenth  century :  "  When  Middle- 
ton  came  to  the  King  in  Paris,  he  brought  with  him 
a  little  Scotish  vicar,  who  was  known  to  the  King, 
one  Mr.  Knox.  .  .  .  He  said  he  was  addressed  from 
Scotland  to  the  Lords  in  the  Tower,  who  did  not 
then  know  that  Middleton  had  arrived  in  safety  with 
the  King  ;  "  etc.  —  Clarendon,  History^  Book  xiii. 
"  Thereupon  they  [the  King's  friends  in  England] 
sent  Harry  Seymour,  who,  being  of  his  Majesty's 
bedchamber,  and  having  his  leave  to  attend  his  own 
affairs  in  England,  they  well  knew  would  be  be- 
lieved by  the  King,  and,  being  addressed  only  to  the 
Marquis  of  Ormond  and  the  Chancellor  of  the  Ex- 
chequer, he  might  have  opportunity  to  speak  with 
the  King  privately  and  undiscovered  ;  "  etc.  —  Id. 
Book  xiv.  "  Though  the  messengers  who  were  sent 
were  addressed  only  to  the  King  himself  and  to  the 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  ;  "  etc.  —  Ibid.  "  Two 
gentlemen  of  Kent  came  to  Windsor  the  morning 
after  the  Prince  [of  Orange]  came  thither.  They 
were  addressed  to  me.  And  they  told  me  ;  "  etc.  — 
Burnet,  Ow7t  Ti?ncs^  i.  799* 

300.  Tbzt  are  thejirst  that  rears  your  hand.  —  In 
strict  grammar,  perhaps,  it  should  be  either  "  rears 
his  "  or  ^'  rear  your  ;  "  but  the  business  of  an  editor 
of  Shakespeare  is  not  to  make  for  us  in  all  cases 
perfect  grammar,  but  to  give  us  what  his  author  in 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  271 

all  probability  wrote.  A  writer's  grammatical  irreg- 
ularities are  as  much  part  of  his  style,  and  therefore 
of  his  mind  and  of  himself,  as  any  other  characteristic. 

301.  Casca.  Are  uue  all  ready?  303.  Cces.  What 
is  now  amissy  etc.  —  There  can,  I  think,  be  no  doubt 
that  Mr.  Collier's  MS.  annotator  has  here  again 
given  us  the  true  reading,  and  a  valuable  restoration. 
[Dyce,  Hudson,  and  White  adopt  it.]  What  Casca 
could  possibly  mean  by  exclaiming,  "  What  is  now 
amiss.  That  Caesar  and  his  Senate  must  redress?"  is 
nearly  inconceivable.  The  question  is  plainly  suit- 
able to  Caesar  only,  to  the  person  presiding ;  the  pro- 
ceedings could  never  have  been  so  opened  by  any 
mere  member  of  the  Senate.  And  the  absurdity  of 
supposing  it  to  have  been  spoken  by  Casca  becomes 
still  stronger  when  we  have  to  consider  it  as  a  nat- 
ural sequence  of  the  "Are  we  all  ready?"  which 
immediately  precedes.  Even  if  any  one  of  the  con- 
spirators was  likely  to  have  made  such  a  display,  it 
was  hardly  Casca. 

303.  Most  puissant  Cossar.  —  Pulssa?it^  and  the 
substantive  form  puissance^  are,  I  believe,  always 
dissyllables  in  Milton  ;  with  Shakespeare  they  gen- 
erally are  so  (as  here),  but  not  always.  Thus  in 
King  yohn^  iii.  i,  the  King  says  to  the  Bastard, — 

Cousin,  go  draw  our  puissance  together. 

Walker,  however,  is  mistaken  in  producing  the 
line,  — 

Either  past,  or  not  arrived  to  pith  and  puissance  — 

(from  the  Chorus  before  the  Third  Act  of  King 
Henry  the  Fifth)  as  necessarily  to  be  read  with  the 
trisyllabic  division  of  the  word.  It  is  not  even 
probable  that  it  ought  to  be  so  read,  —  barely  pos- 
sible.    In  Spenser  too  we   have   occasionally  this 


272  Philological  Commentary,    [act  hi. 

pronunciation ;  as  in  F.  ^.  v.  2.  7,  "  For  that  he 
is  so  puissant  and  strong ; "  and  again  in  stanza  17, 
*'  His  puissance,  ne  bear  himself  upright." 

304.  These  crouchings.  —  This  is  the  correction 
(for  the  couchhtgs  of  the  old  printed  copies)  of  Mr. 
Collier's  MS.  annotator.  Surely  it  does  not  admit 
of  a  doubt.  [Hudson  and  White  have  couchings^ 
and  below  low-crooked.  The  former  quotes  Rich- 
ardson, v/ho  gives  "to  low^er,  to  stoop,  to  bend 
dow^n,"  as  meanings  of  to  couch;  while  the  latter 
refers  to  Singer's  citations  from  Huloet :  "  Cowche, 
like  a  dogge  ;  procumbo^  prosterno^^^  "  crooke-backed 
or  crowche-backed."] 

304.  And  turn  pre-ordinance^  etc.  —  The  reading 
of  the  old  text  here  is  "  into  the  lane  of  children." 
Malone  actually  attempts  an  explanation  of  "  the 
lane  of  children  ;  "  he  says  it  may  mean  "  the  nar- 
row conceits  of  children,  which  must  change  as  their 
minds  grow  more  enlarged  "  !  The  prostration  of 
the  human  understanding  before  what  it  has  got  to 
hold  as  authority  can  hardly  be  conceived  to  go 
beyond  this.  Johnson  conjectured  that  lane  might 
be  a  misprint  for  law;  and  Mr.  Collier's  MS.  an- 
notator, it  appears,  makes  the  same  emendation. 
[It  is  adopted  by  Dyce,  Hudson,  and  White.]  The 
new  reading  may  still  be  thought  not  to  be  perfectly 
satisfactory  ;  but  at  least  it  is  not  utter  nonsense,  like 
the  other.  In  a  passage  which  has  evidently  suffered 
some  injury,  we  may  perhaps  be  allowed  to  suspect 
that  ^'•jirst  decree  "  should  be  '-'- fixed  decree."  The 
word  would  be  spelled  fixt^  as  it  is  immediately 
afterwards  in  309. 

304.  Be  not  fond.,  etc.  —  The  sense  in  which  fond 
is  used  here  (that  of  foolish)  appears  to  be  the  origi- 
nal one ;  so  that  when  tenderness  of  affection  was 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  273 

first  called  fondness  it  must  have  been  regarded  as  a 
kind  of  folly.  In  like  manner  what  was  thought  of 
doting  upon  anything,  or  any  person,  may  be  inferred 
from  the  import  of  the  word  dotage.  In  Chaucer  a 
fonne  is  a  fool ;  and  the  word  fo7idling  can  scarcely 
be  said  to  have  yet  lost  that  meaning. 

[Compare  Wichf's  Bible,  i  Cor.  i.  27  :  "  But  God 
chees  the  thingis  that  ben  fonnyd  of  the  world  to 
confounde  wise  men."  So  Udall's  Erasmus:  "  With 
these  fond  ceremonies  is  the  tyme  consumed  awaie 
therewhyle,"  etc.  And  Latimer,  Sermons :  "  It  is 
a  fond  thing  :  I  will  not  tarry  in  it."] 

304.  Such  rebel  bloody  That  will  be  thawed, — 
See  44. 

304.  Low-crouched  curtsies.  —  This  is  the  cor- 
rection of  Mr.  Collier's  MS.  annotator :  the  Folios 
have  ''  Low-crooked-curtsies "  (with  hyphens  con- 
necting all  the  three  words).  We  say  to  crouch 
low.,  but  not  to  crook  low.  Curtsies.,  which  we 
have  here,  is  the  same  word  which  appears  in  the 
second  line  of  the  present  speech  as  courtesies.  It 
is  akin  to  court  and  courteous^  the  immediate  root 
being  the  French  cour ;  which,  again,  appears  to 
be  the  Latin  curia.,  —  or  rather  curiata  (scil.  cO' 
mitia?)^  as  is  indicated  by  our  English  court.,  and 
the  old  form  of  the  French  word,  which  was  the 
same,  and  also  by  the  Italian  corte  and  the  Spanish 
carte  and  cortes.  [Wedgwood  derives  court  from 
the  Latin  cohors.,  chors.,  an  enclosed  place.  vScheler, 
Diet,  d^ Etymol.  Franc,  and  the  revised  Webster 
also  give  this  etymology.]  Mr.  Collier  prints  cour- 
tesies. It  is  curtsies  in  the  Second  Folio,  as  well 
as  in  the  First. 

304.  Know.,  Ccesar  doth  not  wrong.,  etc.  —  This 
is  the  reading  of  all  the  old  printed  copies,  and  Mr. 
18 


274  Philological  Commentary,    [act  hi. 

Collier  expressly  states  that  it  is  left  untouched  by 
his  MS.  corrector.  We  must  take  it  as  meaning, 
"  Caesar  never  does  what  is  wrong  or  unjust ;  nor 
will  he  be  appeased  (when  he  has  determined  to 
punish)  without  sufficient  reason  being  shown."  At 
the  same  time,  it  must  be  confessed  both  that  these 
two  propositions,  or  affirmations,  do  not  hang  very 
well  together,  and  also  that  such  meaning  as  they 
may  have  is  not  very  clearly  or  effectively  expressed 
by  the  words.  "  Nor  without  cause  will  he  be  sat- 
isfied" has  an  especially  suspicious  look.  That 
"  without  cause "  should  mean  without  sufficient 
reason  being  shown  why  he  should  be  satisfied  or 
induced  to  relent,  is  only  an  interpretation  to  which 
we  are  driven  for  want  of  a  better.  Now,  all  this 
being  so,  it  is  remarkable  that  there  is  good  evidence 
that  the  passage  did  not  originally  stand  as  we  now 
have  it.  Ben  Jonson,  in  his  Discoveries^  speaking 
of  Shakespeare,  says,  "  Many  times  he  fell  into  those 
things  could  not  escape  laughter ;  as  when  he  said 
in  the  person  of  Caesar,  one  speaking  to  him, '  Caesar, 
thou  dost  me  wrong,'  he  replied,  '  Caesar  did  never 
wrong  but  with  just  cause.' "  And  he  ridicules  the 
expression  again  in  his  Staple  of  Neuus:  "Cry  you 
mercy ;  you  never  did  wrong  but  with  just  cause." 
We  must  believe  that  the  words  stood  originally  as 
Jonson  has  given  them ;  and  he  had  evidently  heard 
of  no  alteration  of  them.  Whoever  may  have  at- 
tempted to  mend  them  might  perhaps  have  as  well 
let  them  alone.  [Hudson  and  White  agree  with 
Collier  in  the  opinion  that  Jonson  was  speaking 
only  from  memory,  which,  as  he  himself  says,  was 
"  shaken  with  age  now,  and  sloth,"  and  so  misquoted 
the  Poet.]  After  all,  Csesar's  declaring  that  he 
never  did  wrong   but  with  just  cause  would  differ 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C-^sar.  275 

little  from  what  Bassanio  says  in  The  Merchant  of 

Ve7iice^  iv.  i  :  — 

I  beseech  you, 
Wrest  once  the  law  to  your  authority : 
To  do  a  great  right  do  a  little  wrong. 

Shakespeare,  however,  may  have  retouched  the  pas- 
sage himself  on  being  told  of  Jonson's  ridicule  of  it, 
though  perhaps  somewhat  hastily  and  with  less 
painstaking  than  Euripides  when  he  mended  or  cut 
out,  as  he  is  said  to  have  done  in  several  instances, 
what  had  incurred  the  derisive  criticism  of  Aris- 
tophanes. 

305.  Por  the  repealing^  etc.  —  To  repeal  (from 
the  French  rappeler)  is  literally  to  recall,  though  no 
longer  used  in  that  sense,  —  in  which,  however,  it 
repeatedly  occurs  in  Shakespeare.  Thus  in  Corlo- 
lanus,  iv.  i,  after  the  banishment  of  Marcius,  his 
friend  Cominius  says  to  him,  — 

If  the  time  thrust  forth 
A  cause  for  thy  repeal,  we  shall  not  send,  etc. 

For  the  probable  pronunciation  of  banished  in  this 
and  in  the  preceding  speech,  see  the  note  on  246. 

306.  Desiring  thee, — We  should  now  say  in  this 
sense  "  desiring  of  thee."  To  desire^  from  the  Latin 
desiderium  (through  the  French  desir)  is  the  same 
as  to  desiderate  ;  but,  like  other  similar  terms,  it  has 
in  difterent  constructions,  or  has  had  in  different 
stages  of  the  language,  various  meanings  according 
to  the  measure  or  degree  of  intensity  in  which  that 
which  it  expresses  is  conceived  to  be  presented.  It 
may  be  found  in  every  sense,  from  such  wishing  or 
longing  as  is  the  gentlest  and  quietest  of  all  things 
(the  soft  desire  of  the  common  herd  of  our  amatory 
verse-mongers)  to  that  kind  which  gives  utterance  to 
itself  in  the  most  imperative  style  of  command. 


276  Philological  Commentary,    [act  hi. 

306.  An  immediate  freedom  of  repeal.  —  A  free, 
unconditional  recall.  This  application  of  the  term 
freedo?n  is  a  little  peculiar.  It  is  apparently  imi- 
tated from  the  Q.y.^xQ^%€\ow  freedom  of  a  city.  As  that 
is  otherwise  called  the  municipal  franchise.^  so  this 
is  called  enfranchisement  in  the  next  speech  but  one. 

308.  As  low  as  to  thy  foot.  —  The  Second  Folio 
has  "  As  love:' 

309.  /  could  be  well  moved.  —  I  could  fitly  or 
properly  be  moved. 

309.  If  I  could  fray  to  move^  prayers  would  move 
me.  —  The  meaning  seems  to  be,  "  If  I  could  employ 
prayers  (as  you  can  do)  to  move  (others),  then  I 
should  be  moved  by  prayers  (as  you  might  be)." 

309.  But  I  am,  constant  as  the  northern  star.  — 
See  262. 

309.  Resting  quality.  —  Qiiality  or  property  of 
remaining  at  rest  or  immovable. 

309.  But  there's  but  one  in  all  doth  hold  his 
place.  —  That  is,  its  place,  as  w^e  should  now  say. 
See  54. 

309.  Apprehensive.  —  Possessed  of  the  power  of 
apprehension,  or  intelligence.  The  word  is  now 
confined  to  another  meaning. 

309.  That  unassailable.,  etc.  —  Holds  on  his  rank 
probably  means  continues  to  hold  his  place  ;  and  un- 
shaked  of  motion^  perhaps,  unshaken  by  any  motion, 
or  solicitation,  that  may  be  addressed  to  him.  Or, 
possibly,  it  may  be,  Holds  on  his  course  unshaken  in 
his  motion,  or  with  perfectly  steady  movement. 

311.  Wilt  thou  lift  up  Olympus?  —  Wilt  thou 
attempt  an  impossibility?  Think  you,  with  your 
clamor,  to  upset  what  is  immovable  as  the  everlast- 
ing seat  of  the  Gods? 

313.  Doth  not  Brutus  bootless  kneel?  —  Has  not 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  277 

Brutus  been  refused,  and  shall  any  other  be  listened 
to?  It  is  surprising  that  Dr.  Johnson  should  have 
missed  seeing  this,  and  proposed  to  read  "  Do  not, 
Brutus,  bootless  kneel."  That,  however  (which 
Johnson  does  not  appear  to  have  known),  is  also  the 
reading  of  the  Second  Folio,  —  except,  indeed,  that 
the  point  of  interrogation  is,  notwithstanding,  still 
preserved. 

314.  —  The  only  stage  direction  after  this  speech 
in  the  original  edition  is,  '"'•  They  stab  Ccesar^ 

315.  —  Et  tUy  Brute.  —  There  is  no  ancient  Latin 
authority,  I  believe,  for  this  famous  exclamation, 
although  in  Suetonius,  i.  82,  Caesar  is  made  to  ad- 
dress Brutus  Kca  tfi),  Texvov;  (And  thou  too,  my  son?). 
It  may  have  occurred  as  it  stands  here  in  the  Latin 
play  on  the  same  subject  whicli  is  recorded  to  have 
been  acted  at  Oxford  in  1582  ;  and  it  is  found  in  The 
True  Tragedy  of  Richard  Duke  of  Tork^  first 
printed  in  1595,  on  which  the  Third  Part  of  King 
Henry  the  Sixth  is  founded,  as  also  in  a  poem  by  S. 
Nicholson,  entitled  Acolastus  his  Afterwit^  printed 
in  1600,  in  both  of  which  nearly  contemporary  pro- 
ductions we  have  the  same  line  —  "jE"^  tu^  Brute? 
Wilt  thou  stab  Caesar  too?"  It  may  just  be  noticed, 
as  the  historical  fact,  that  the  meeting  of  the  Senate 
at  which  Caesar  was  assassinated  was  held,  not,  as 
is  here  assumed,  in  the  Capitol,  but  in  the  Curia  in 
which  the  statue  of  Pompey  stood,  being,  as  Plu- 
tarch tells  us,  one  of  the  edifices  which  Pompey  had 
built,  and  had  given,  along  with  his  famous  Theatre, 
to  the  public.  It  adjoined  the  Theatre,  which  is 
spoken  of  (with  the  Portico  surrounding  it)  in  130, 
138,  and  140.  The  mistake  which  we  have  here  is 
found  also  in  Hamlet.,  where  (iii.  2)  Hamlet  ques-. 
tions    Polonius   about   his   histrionic    performances 


278  Philological  Commentary,    [act  hi. 

when  at  the  University  :  "  I  did  enact  Julius  Caesar," 
says  Polonius  ;  "  I  was  killed  i'  the  Capitol ;  Brutus 
killed  me  ;"  to  which  the  Prince  replies,  "  It  was  a 
brute  part  of  him  to  kill  so  capital  a  calf  there."  So 
also,  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra^  ii.  6 :  — 

What 
Made  the  all-honoured,  honest,  Roman  Brutus, 
With  the  armed  rest,  courtiers  of  beauteous  freedom, 
To  drench  the  Capitol  ? 

Even  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  in  their  Tragedy  en- 
titled The  False  One^  in  defending  themselves  from 
the  imputation  of  having  taken  up  the  same  subject 
which  had  been  already  brought  on  the  stage  in  the 
present  Play,  say,  — 

Sure  to  tell 
Of  Caesar's  amorous  heats,  and  how  he  fell 
I'  the  Capitol,  can  never  be  the  same 
To  the  judicious. 

In  the  old  copies  the  only  stage  direction  at  the  end 
of  this  speech  is  the  word  ^^Dies." 

318.  Ambition's  debt  is  paid.  —  Its  debt  to  the 
country  and  to  justice. 

334.  \_Publius^  good  cheer.  —  Cheer ^  Fr.  chere,, 
originally  meant  the  countenance,  aspect. 

She  cast  on  me  no  goodly  ckere.  —  Gower,  Conf.  Am. 

All  fancy-sick  she  is,  and  pale  of  cheer. 

Mid.  N.  's  Dr.  iii.  2. 
He  ended,  and  his  words  their  drooping  cheer 
Enlightened.  —  Milton,  P.  L.  vi.  496. 

Hence  " to  be  of  good  cheer"  is,  literally,  to  wear  a 
pleasant  face,  to  look  cheerful.] 

324.  Nor  to  no  Roman  else.  —  Where,  as  here, 
the  sense  cannot  be  mistaken,  the  reduplication  of 
the  negative  is  a  very  natural  way  of  strengthening 
the  expression.     It  is  common  in  the  Saxon. 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  279 

326.  And  let  no  man  abide  this  deed.  —  Let  no 
man  be  held  responsible  for,  or  be  required  to  stand 
any  consequences  that  may  follow  upon  any  penalty 
that  may  have  to  be  paid  on  account  of,  this  deed. 
Another  form  of  the  verb  to  abide  is  to  aby;  as  in 
A  Midsummer  Nighfs  Dream.,  iii.  2  :  — 

If  thou  dost  intend 
Never  so  little  shew  of  love  to  her, 
Thou  shalt  aby  it ;  — 

and  in  the  same  scene,  a  little  before,  "  Lest  to  thy 
peril  thou  aby  it  dear ; "  and,  a  little  after,  "  Thou 
shalt  'by  this  dear."  So  in  the  Old  Version  of  the 
Psalms.,  iii.  26,  "  Thou  shalt  dear  aby  this  blow." 
It  may  be  questioned  whether  abide  in  this  sense  has 
any  connection  with  the  common  word.  To  aby 
has  been  supposed  by  some  to  be  the  same  with 
buy.  —  The  original  stage  direction  is  £nter  Tre- 
bonius. 

327.  Where's  Antony.  —  In  the  original  text, 
"Where  is  Antony." 

328.  As  it  ivere  doomsday.  —  The  full  expression 
would  be  "  as  if  it  were  doomsday."  —  The  doom 
of  doomsday  is  the  Saxon  dom^  judgment,  a  deriva- 
tive of  dema7t  (whence  our  deem)^  to  judge.  The 
Judges  in  the  Isle  of  Man  and  in  Jersey  are  called 
Deemsters.  In  Scotland  formerl)*  the  Dempster  of 
Court  vfSiS  the  legal  name  for  the  common  hangman  ; 
but  the  word  also  designated  a  species  of  judge. 
The  Dempsters  of  Caraldstone  in  Forfarshire  were 
so  called  as  being  hereditary  judges  to  the  great 
Abbey  of  Aberbrothock.  Lord  Hailes,  under  the 
year  1370,  refers  to  an  entry  in  the  Chartulary 
recording  that  one  of  them  had  become  bound  to 
the  Abbot  and  Abbey  that  he  and  his  heirs  should 
furnish  a  person  to  administer  justice  in  their  courts 


28o  Philological  Commentary,    [act  hi. 

at  an  annual  salary  of  twenty  shillings  sterling 
{^facient  ipsis  deserviri  de  officio  judicis^  etc.). — 
A^inals^  ii.  336  [edit,  of  1819]. 

330.  Why^  he  that  cuts  offi  etc.  —  The  modern 
editors,  generally,  give  this  speech  to  Cassius ;  but 
it  is  assigned  to  Casca  in  all  the  old  copies.  [Hud- 
son and  White  give  it  to  Casca.  The  former  remarks 
that  it  is  strictly  in  keeping  with  what  Casca  says  in 
127.] 

332.  Stoops  then,  and  wash.  —  So  in  Coriolanus, 
i.  10,  we  have  —  ''''Wash  my  fierce  hand  in  his 
heart."  In  both  passages  wash,  which  is  a  Saxon 
word  (preserved  also  in  the  German  waschen),  is 
used  in  what  is  probably  its  primitive  sense  of  im- 
mersing in  or  covering  with  liquid.  Thus  we  say 
to  wash  with  gold  or  silver.  So  in  Antony  and 
Cleopatra,  v.  i ,  Octavius,  on  being  told  of  the  death 
of  Antony,  exclaims,  "  It  is  a  tidings  To  wash  the 
eyes  of  kings." 

332.  In  states  unborn.  —  The  First  Folio,  and 
that  only,  has  "  In  state  unborn,"  —  palpably  a 
typographical  error,  and  as  such  now  given  up  by 
everybody,  but  a  reading  which  Malone,  in  his 
abject  subservience  to  the  earliest  text,  actually  re- 
tained, or  restored,  interpreting  it  as  meaning  "  in 
theatric  pomp  as  yet  undisplayed." 

333.  That  now  07t  Pompey's  basis  lies  along". — 
At  the  base  of  Pompey's  statue,  as  in  425.  —  In  the 
First  Folio  it  is  "  lye  along  ;  "  in  the  Second,  "  lyes.*' 
["Lie  along"  for  lie  at  full  length,  be  prostrate, 
occurs  in  jfudg^es  vii.  13.  For  another  instance 
in  Shakespeare  see  Coriol.  v.  6 :  "  When  he  lies 
along,"  etc.] 

334.  The  men  that  gave  their  country  liberty.  — 
This  is  the  reading  of  all  the  old  copies,  which  Mr. 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  281 

Knight  has  restored,  after  their  had  been  turned  into 
our  by  the  last  century  editors  (Malone  included), 
not  only  unnecessarily  and.  unwarrantably,  but  also 
without  notice.  [Collier,  Dyce,  Hudson,  and  White 
have  their.'] 

336.  With  the  most  boldest.  —  In  the  old  version 
of  the  Psalms  we  are  familiar  with  the  form  the  most 
Highest;  and  even  in  the  authorized  translation  of 
the  Bible  we  have,  in  Acts  xxvi.  5,  "  the  most  strait- 
est  sect  of  our  religion."  Nor  is  there  anything 
intrinsically  absurd  in  such  a  mode  of  expression. 
If  we  are  not  satisfied  to  consider  it  as  merely 
an .  intensified  superlative,  we  may  say  that  the 
7nost  boldest  should  mean  those  who  are  boldest 
among  the  boldest.  So  again  in  425,  "  This  was 
the  most  unkindest  cut  of  all."  In  most  cases,  how- 
ever, the  double  superlative  must  be  regarded  as 
intended  merely  to  express  the  extreme  degree  more 
emphatically.  Double  comparatives  are  very  com- 
mon in  Shakespeare. 

338.  Say.,  I  love  Brutus.  —  Mr.  Knight  has,  ap- 
parently by  a  typographical  error,  "  I  lov'd." 

338.  May  safely  come  to  hi?n^  and  be  resolved.  — 
That  is,  have  his  perplexity  or  uncertainty  removed. 
We  might  still  say,  have  his  doubts  resolved.  But 
we  have  lost  the  more  terse  form  of  expression,  by 
which  the  doubt  was  formerly  identified  with  the 
doubter.  So  again,  in  425,  Caesar's  blood  is  described 
by  Antony  as 

rushing  out  of  doors,  to  be  resolved 

If  Brutus  so  unkindly  knocked  or  no ; 

and  in  505  Brutus,  referring  to  Cassius,  asks  of  Lu- 
cilius,  "  How  he  received  you,  let  me  be  resolved." 
[See  heading  of  chaps,  x.  and  xii.  of  Mark's  Gospel.] 
Mr.  Collier's  MS.  annotator  appends  the  stage  direc- 


282  Philological  Commentary,     [act  hi. 

tion  ''^ICneelin^"  to  the  first  line  of  this  speech,  and 
'•''Rising'^*  to  the  last. 

338.  [^Thorough  the -hazards. —  Thorough  (or 
thorow^  as  it  is  sometimes  spelt)  and  through  are 
the  same  word  ;  as  also  are  thoroughly  and  through- 
ly. Shakespeare  used  both  forms,  as  the  following 
examples  will  show  :  — 

Over  hill,  over  dale, 

Thorough  bush,  thorough  briar, 
Over  park,  over  pale, 

Thorough  flood,  thorough  fire. 

Mid.  N.'s  Dream,  ii.  i. 

How  he  glisters 
Thorough  my  rust !  —  Winter's  Tale,  iii.  2. 

See  also  709.  Examples  of  through  need  not  be 
given.     See  425,  458,  etc. 

I  am  informed  throughly  of  the  case. 

Mer.  of  Ven.,  iv.  I. 
You  scarce  can  right  me  throughly,  etc. 

Wi?zter's  Tale,  ii.  i. 
I'll  be  revenged 
Most  throughly  for  my  father.  —  Hamlet,  iv.  5. 

I  am  throughly  weary.  —  Cymbeline,  iii.  6. 

Nay,  these  are  almost  thoroughly  persuaded. 

Coriolanus,  i.  i. 

Compare,:<also  Bacon,  Essay  ^th  —  "  that  saileth,  in 
the  fraile  barke  of  the  flesh,  thorow  the  waves  of  the 
world."  Also,  Essay  ^^th  —  "  to  looke  backe  upon 
anger,  when  the  fitt  is  throughly  over." 

In  Nujnbers  xxviii.  29,  we  have  thorowout  for 
throughout.^  in  the  edition  of  161 1.  And  in  the 
Mer.  of  Ven.  ii.  7,  we  have  yet  another  of  these 
old  forms :  — 

The  Hyrcanian  deserts  and  the  vasty  wilds 
Of  wide  Arabia  are  as  tJiroughfares  now 
For  princes  to  come  view  fair  Portia.] 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  283 

339.  Tell  hlm^  so  please  him  come  unto  this 
place.  —  For  the  meaning  of  so  here,  see  the  note  on 
"  So  with  love  I  might  entreat  you,"  in  57.  There 
is  an  eUipsis  of  the  usual  nominative  (zV)  before  the 
impersonal  verb  {please)  ;  and  the  infinitive  co?}ze 
also  wants  the  customary  prefix  to.  [See  on  i .]  "  So 
please  him  come  "  is  equivalent  to  If  it  please  (or 
may  please)  him  to  come. 

341.  /  k?ioiv  that  we  shall  have  him  well  to 
friend.  —  So  in  Cymbeline.,  i.  5,  lachimo  says, 
"  Had  I  admittance  and  opportunity  to  friend."  So 
Macbeth  (iii.  3),  "What  I  can  redress,  As  I  shall 
find  the  time  to  friend,  I  will."  Even  in  Clarendon 
we  have,  "  For  the  King  had  no  port  to  friend  by 
which  he  could  bring  ammunition  to  Oxford,"  etc. — 
Hist..,  Book  vii.  To  friend  is  equiva:lent  to  for 
friend.  So  we  say  To  take  to  wife.  The  German 
form  of  to  {zu)  is  used  in  a  somewhat  similar  man- 
ner :  "Das  wird  mich  zu  eurem,  Freuitde  tnachen 
(That  will  make  me  your  friend).  In  the  JVinter*s 
Tale,  V.  I,  we  have  "  Allvgreetings  that  a  King  at 
friend  Can  send  his  brother."  [Compare  Matthew 
iii.  9,  Luke  iii.  8 :  "  We  have  Abraham  to  our 
father,"  etc.] 

342.  Falls  shrewdly  to  the  purpose.  —  The  pur- 
pose is  the  intention  ;  to  the  purpose  is  according  to 
the  intention,  as  away  from  the  purpose,  or  beside 
the  purpose,  is  without  any  such  coincidence  or  con- 
formity ;  and  to  fall  shrewdly  to  the  purpose  may 
be  explained  as  being  to  fall  with  mischievous  sharp- 
ness and  felicity  of  aim  upon  that  which  it  is  sought 
to  hit.     See  186. 

343.  The  original  heading  is  '-'•Enter  Antony^ 

344.  O  mighty  Ccesarl  dost  thou  lie  so  low?  — 
Mr.  Collier  states  in  his  Notes  and  Emendations^ 


284  Philological  Commentary,     [act  hi. 

p.  400,  that  a  stage  direction  of  his  MS.  annotator 
requires  Antony,  on  his  entrance  with  this  Hne,  to 
kneel  over  the  body,  and  to  rise  when  he  comes  to 
"  I  know  not,  gentlemen,  what  you  intend,"  etc. 

344.  JV/io  else  is  rank.  —  Is  of  too  luxuriant 
growth,  too  fast-spreading  power  in  the  common- 
wealth. 

344.  Nor  no  instrument.  —  Here  the  double  neg- 
ative, while  it  occasions  no  ambiguity,  is  palpably 
much  more  forcible  than  either  and  no  or  nor  any 
would  have  been. 

3z|4.   Of  half  that  worth  as.  —  See  44. 

344.  /  do  beseech  ye.,  if  you  bear  me  hard.  —  See 
note  on  Bear  me  hard  in  105.  —  The  present  line 
affords  a  remarkable  illustration  of  how  completely 
the  old  declension  of  the  personal  pronoun  of  the 
second  person  has  become  obliterated  in  our  modern 
English.  Milton,  too,  almost  always  has  ye  in  the 
accusative.  Thus  {Par.  Lost.,  x.  462)  —  "I  call 
ye,  and  declare  ye  now,  returned.  Successful  beyond 
hope,  to  lead  ye  forth,"  etc.  In  the  original  form  of 
the  language  jK^  (ge)  is  always  nominative,  and  you 
(e6w)  accusative;  being  the. very  reverse  of  what 
we  have  here. 

344.  Live  a  thousand  years.  —  Suppose  I  live  ; 
If  I  live ;  Should  I  live.  But,  although  the  sup- 
pression of  the  conditional  conjunction  is  common 
and  legitimate  enough,  that  of  the  pronoun,  or  nom- 
inative to  the  verb,  is  hardly  so  defensible.  The 
feeling  probably  was  that  the  /  in  the  next  line 
might  serve  for  both  verbs. 

344.  So  apt  to  die.  —  Apt  is  properly  fit,  or  suited, 
generally,  as  here.  So  formerly  they  said  to  apt  in 
the  sense  both  of  to  adapt  and  of  to  agree.  I  appre- 
hend, however,  that  such  an  expression  as  aft  to  die 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  285 

(for  ready  or  prepared  to  die)  would  have  been  felt 
in  any  stage  of  the  language  to  involve  an  unusual 
extension  of  the  meaning  of  the  word,  sounding  about 
as  strange  as  aftus  ad  moriendum  would  do  in  Latin. 
We  now,  at  all  events,  commonly  understand  the 
kind  of  suitableness  or  readiness  implied  in  apt  as 
being  only  that  which  consists  in  inclination,  or 
addictedness,  or  mere  liability.  Indeed,  we  usually 
say  disposed  or  inclined  in  cases  in  which  apt  was 
the  customary  word  in  the  English  of  the  last  cen.- 
tury  ;  as  in  Smollett's  Count  Fathom^  vol.  ii.  ch.  27, 
"  I  am  apt  to  believe  it  is  the  voice  of  heaven."  By 
the  substantive  aptitude^  again,  we  mostly  under- 
stand an  active  fitness.  The  word  apte  was  wont  to 
be  not  much  used  in  French ;  some  of  the  diction- 
aries do  not  notice  it ;  Richelet  characterizes  it  as 
obsolete  ;  adding,  on  the  authority  of  Father  Bou- 
hours,  that  the  noun  aptitude  is  occasionally  em- 
ployed, although  not  considered  to  belong  to  the 
Court  language.  Like  many  other  old-fashioned 
words,  however,  this  has  been  revived  by  recent 
writers.  Such  expi'essions  as  "  On  est  apte  i  juger," 
meaning  *'One  has  no  difficulty  in  concluding,"  are 
common  in  modern  books.  [Compare  2  Kings 
xxiv.  16 ;  I  Tim.  iii.  2 ;  2  Tim,  ii.  24.  See  also 
Graham,  English  Sy?tonymes^  s.  v.] 

344.  As  here^  by  Ccesar  and  by  you^  cut  off,  — 
We  may  resolve  the  ellipsis  by  saying  "  as  to  be,"  or 
"  as  being  cut  off."  And  "  by  Caesar  "  is,  of  course, 
beside  Caesar :  "  by  you,"  through  your  act  or  in- 
strumentality. A  play  of  words,  as  it  is  called,  was 
by  no  means  held  in  Shakespeare's  day  to  be  appro- 
priate only  to  sportive  writing,  —  any  more  than  was 
any  other  species  of  verbal  artifice  or  ornament,  such, 
for  instance,  as  alliteration,  or  rhyme,  or  verse  itself. 


286  Philological  Commentary.-    [act  hi. 

Whatever  may  be  the  etymology  of  by^  its  primary 
meaning  seems  to  be  alongside  of  (the  same,  ap- 
parently, with  that  of  the  Greek  -ffapa).  It  is  only 
by  inference  that  instrumentality  is  expressed  either 
by  it  or  by  with  (the  radical  notion  involved  in 
which  appears  to  be  that  of  joining  or  uniting). 
See  619. 

344.  The  choice  and  master  spirits  of  this  age.  — 
Choice  here  may  be  understood  either  in  the  sub- 
stantive sense  as  the  elite^  or,  better  perhaps,  as  an 
adjective  in  concord  with  spirits. 

345.  O  A7tto7zy!  beg-  not  your  death  of  us.-^ 
That  is.  If  you  prefer  death,  or  if  you  are  resolved 
upon  death,  let  it  not  be  of  us  that  you  ask  it.  The 
sequel  of  the  speech  seems  decisive  in  regard  to  the 
us  being  the  emphatic  word. 

345.  And  this  the  bleeding  business.  —  Only  a 
more  vivid  expression  for  the  bloody  business,  the 
sanguinary  act. 

345.  Our  hearts  you  see  not^  they  are  pitiful.  — 
Probably  the  primary  sense  of  the  Latin  plus  and 
pietas  may  have  been  nothing  more  than  emotion,  or 
affection,  generally.  But  the  words  had  come  to  be 
confined  to  the  expression  of  reverential  affection 
towards  a  superior,  such  as  the  gods  or  a  parent. 
From  pietas  the  Italian  language  has  received  pietd, 
(anciently  pietade)^  which  has  the  senses  both  of 
reverence  and  of  compassion.  The  French  have 
moulded  the  word  into  two  forms,  which  (according 
to  what  frequently  takes  place  in  language)  have 
been  respectively,  appropriated  to  the  two  senses ; 
and  from  their  piete  and  pitie  we  have  borrowed, 
and  applied  in  the  same  manner,  our  piety  and  pity. 
To  the  former,  moreover,  we  have  assigned  the 
adjective  pious;  to  the  latter,  piteous.     But  pity^ 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  287 

which  meant  at  one  time  reverence,  and  afterwards 
compassion,  has  come  in  some  of  its  uses  to  suffer 
still  further  degradation,  ^y  pitiful  (or  full  of  pity) 
Shakespeare,  as  we  see  here,  means  full  of  com- 
passion ;  but  the  modern  sense  of  fitiful  is  con- 
temptible or  despicable.  "  Pity,"  it  has  been  said, 
or  sung,  "  melts  the  soul  to  love  ; "  but  this  would 
seem  to  show  that  it  is  also  near  akin  to  a  very  difter- 
ent  passion.  And,  instead  of  turning  to  love,  it 
would  seem  more  likely  that  it  should  sometimes 
pass  on  from  contempt  to  aversion  and  hatred.  In 
many  cases,  too,  when  we  say  that  we  pity  an  indi- 
vidual, we  mean  that  we  despise  or  loathe  him. 

345.  As  Jire  drives  out  Jire^  so  pity  pity.  —  In 
this  line  the  first  Jire  is  a  dissyllable  (like  hour  in 
255),  the  second  a  monosyllable.  The  illustration 
we  have  here  is  a  favorite  one  with  Shakespeare. 
"  Tut,  man,"  says  Benvolio  to  his  friend  Romeo 
{Romeo  and  yuliet^  i.  2), — 

one  fire  burns  out  another's  burning, 

One  pain  is  lessened  by  another's  anguish. 

One  fire  burns  out  one  fire;  one  nail,  one  nail, 
exclaims   Tullus  Aufidius,   in    Coriolanus    (iv.   7). 
But  we  have  the  thought   most  fully  expressed   in 
the  soliloquy  of  Proteus  in  the  Fourth  Scene  of  the 
Second  Act  of  The  Two  Gentlemeri  of  Verona :  — 

Even  as  one  heat  another  heat  expels, 

Or  as  one  nail  by  strength  drives  out  another, 

So  the  remembrance  of  my  former  love 

Is  by  a  newer  object  quite  forgotten. 

This  is  probably  also  the  thought  which  we  have  in 
the  heroic  Bastard's  exhortation  to  his  uncle,  in 
King  yohn^  v.  i  :  — 

Be  stirring  as  the  time;  be  fire  with  firej 

Threaten  the  threatener ;  etc. 


288  Philological  Commentary,     [act  hi. 

345.  For  your  fart,  — We  should  not  now  use 
this  phrase  in  the  sense  which  it  has  here  (in  so  far 
as  regards  you). 

345.  Our  arms^  in  strengtJi  of  welcome.  —  The 
reading  in  all  the  old  printed  copies  is,  "  in  strength 
of  malice P  Steevens  interprets  this,  "  strong  in  the 
deed  of  malice  they  have  just  performed,"  and  Ma- 
lone  accepts  the  explanation  as  a  very  happy  one. 
But  who  can  believe  that  Brutus  would  ever  have 
characterized  the  lofty  patriotic  passion  by  which  he 
and  his  associates  had  been  impelled  and  nerved  to 
their  great  deed  as  strength  of  malice  ?  It  is  simply 
impossible.  The  earlier  editors,  accordingly,  seeing 
that  the  passage  as  it  stood  was  nonsense,  attempted 
to  correct  it  conjecturally  in  various  ways.  Pope 
boldly  printed  "  exempt  from  malice."  Capel,  more 
ingeniously,  proposed  "  no  strength  of  malice,"  con- 
necting the  words,  not  with  those  that  follow,  but 
with  those  that  precede.  [So  Hudson.]  But  the 
mention  of  m,alice  at  all  is  manifestly  in  the  highest 
degree  unnatural.  Nevertheless  the  word  has  stood 
in  every  edition  down  to  that  in  one  volume  produced 
by  Mr.  Collier  in  1853  ;  and  there,  for  the  first  time, 
instead  of  "  strength  of  malice^''  we  have  "  strength 
oi  welcomed*  This  turns  the  nonsense  into  excellent 
sense  ;  and  the  two  words  are  by  no  means  so  unlike 
as  that,  in  a  cramp  hand  or  an  injured  or  somewhat 
faded  page,  the  one  might  not  easily  have  been  mis- 
taken by  the  first  printer  or  editor  for  the  other. 
The  "  welcome  "  would  probably  be  written  welcoe. 
Presuming  the  correction  to  have  been  made  6n  doc- 
umentary authority,  it  is  one  of  the  most  valuable 
for  which  we  are  indebted  to  the  old  annotator. 
Even  as  a  mere  conjecture,  it  would  be  well  entitled 
to  notice  and  consideration. 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  289 

[White  says,  "  The  difficulty  found  in  this  passage, 
which  even  Mr.  Dyce  suspects  to  be  corrupt,  seems 
to  result  from  a  forgetfulness  of  the  preceding  context. 

Though  now  we  must  appear  bloody  and  cruel^ 
As  by  our  katids,  and  this  our  present  act, 
You  see  we  do ;  yet  you  see  but  our  hands, 
And  this  the  bleeding  business  they  have  done. 
Our  hearts  you  see  not ;  they  are  pitiful ; 
And  pity'to  the  general  wrong  of  Rome,  etc. 

So  {Brutus  continues)  our  arms,  even  in  the  in- 
tensity of  their  hatred  to  Ccesar's  tyranny,  and  our 
hearts  in  their  brotherly  love  to  all  Romans,  do 
receive  you  in."] 

345.  Of  brother^  temper,  —  Brothers,  that  is,  to 
one  another  (not  to  you,  Antony). 

347.  Beside  themselves.  —  Other  forms  of  the 
same  figure  are  Out  of  themselves^  Out  of  their 
senses.  And  in  the  same  notion  we  say  of  a  per- 
son whose  mind  is  deranged  that  he  is  not  himself. 

347.  And  thetz  ive  will  deliver  you  the  cause.  — 
The  history  of  the  word  deliver  (properly  to  set 
free,  to  let  go  forth,  and  hence,  as  applied  to  what 
is  expressed  in  words,  to  declare,  to  pronounce) 
presents  some  points  worthy  of  notice.  In  Latin 
(besides  liber.,  bark,  or  a  book,  and  its  derivative 
delibrare^  to  peel  oft',  with  which  we  have  at  present 
no  concern),  there  are  the  adjective  liber.,  free  (to 
which  liberie  children,  probably  belongs),  and  the 
substantive  llbra^  signifying  both  a  balance  and  the 
weight  which  we  call  a  pound  or  twelve  ounces. 
Whether  liber  and  libra  be  connected  may  be 
doubted.  The  Greek  form  of  libra.,  XiVpa,  and  the 
probable  identity  of  liber  with  ^Xsu^spog  are  against 
the  supposition  that  they  are.  At  the  same  time, 
that  which  \sfree.,  whether  understood  as  meaning 
19 


290  Philological  Commentary,    [act  hi. 

that  which  is  free  to  move  in  any  direction,  or  that 
which  hangs  even  and  without  being  inchned  more 
to  one  side  than  another,  would  be  a  natural  enough 
description  of  a  balance.  And  libra  (a  balance),  it 
may  be  added,  had  anciently  also  the  form  of  libera. 
At  any  rate,  from  liber.,  free,  we  have  the  verb  libe- 
rare,  to  make  free  ;  and  from  libra.,  a  balance,  or 
weight,  librarc  to  weigh. 

So  far  all  is  regular  and  consistent.  But  then, 
when  we  come  to  the  compound  verb  deliberare, 
we  find  that  it  takes  its  signification  (and  must  there- 
fore have  taken  its  origin),  not  from  liberare  and 
liber ^  but  from  librare  and  libra;  it  means,  not  to 
free,  but  to  weigh.  And,  such  being  the  state  of 
things  in  the  Latin  language,  the  French  has  from 
deliberare  formed  deliberer,  having  the  same  sig- 
nification (to  weigh).;  but  it  has  also  from  liber 
formed  another  verb  delivrer,  with  the  sense  of  to 
free.  From  the  French  deliberer  and  delivrer  we 
have,  in  like  manner,  in  English,  and  with  the  same 
significations,  deliberate  and  deliver.  Thus  the 
deviation  begun  in  the  Latin  deliberare  has  been 
carried  out  and  generalized,  till  the  derivatives  from 
liber  have  assumed  the  form  that  would  have  been 
more  proper  for  those  from  libra.,  as  the  latter  had 
previously  usurped  that  belonging  to  the  former. 

[There  is  also  the  Old  English  deliver  =z  active, 
nimble. 

Having  chosen  his  soldiers,  of  nimble,  leane,  and  deliver 
men. — Holins/ied,  i<,^^. 

Brave  archers  and  deliver  men,  since  nor  before  so  good. 
—  Warner,  Albion's  Eng.,  1586. 

This  comes  directly  from  the  French  delivre.,  which 
is  used  in  the  same  sense.  It  gets  its  meaning 
"  probably  from  the  notion  of  free,  unencumbered 


i 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  291 

action  "  (  Wed^yuood).  For  other  examples  of  the 
word,  see  Chaucer,  C.  T.  84,  and  15422  {deliverly)^ 
and  T.  of  Melib.  {delivernesse)  ;  Gower,  Conf.  A7n. 
177,  b.,  etc.  The  word  clever  has  been  supposed  by 
some  to  be  a  corruption  of  this  deliver^  but  it  is 
more  probably  from  the  Saxon  gledw,  gleawferdh^ 
sagacious  (  Webster^  1865).  For  another  etymology 
see  Wedgwood,  s.  v.] 

347.  When  I  struck  htm.  —  In  the  original  printed 
text  it  is  '*  strooke  him." 

348.  Let  each  man  render  me  his  bloody  hand.  — 
Give  me  back  in  return  for  mine.  Here,  according 
to  the  stage  direction  of  Mr.  Collier's  MS.  annotator, 
Antony  "  takes  one  after  another  of  the  conspirators 
by  the  hand,  and  turns  to  the  body,  and  bends  over 
it,  while  he  says,  '  That  I  did  love  thee,  Caesar,  O  ! 
'tis  true,' "  etc. 

348.  Will  I  shake  with  you.  —  It  is  not  to  be  sup- 
posed that  there  was  anything  undignified  in  this 
phraseology  in  Shakespeare's  age. 

348.  Though  last,,  not  least.  —  So  in  King  Lear ^ 
i.  I,  "Although  the  last,  not  least  in  our  dear  love  ; " 
as  is  noted  by  Malone,  who  adds  that  "  the  same 
expression  occurs  more  than  once  in  Plays  exhibited 
before  the  time  of  Shakespeare."  We  have  it  also 
in  the  passage  of  Spenser's  Colin  Cloufs  Come 
Home  Again,,  in  which  Shakespeare  has  been  sup- 
posed to  be  referred  to  :  — 

And  there,  though  last,  not  least,  is  ^tion ; 

A  gentler  shepherd  may  no  where  be  found; 

Whose  muse,  full  of  high  thought's  invention, 

Doth  like  himself  heroically  sound. 

This  poem  was  published  in  1595. 

348.    Tou  must  conceit  me.  —  See  142. 

348.   Shall  it  not  grieve  thee  dearer  than  thy 


292  Philological  Commentary,     [act  hi 

death?  —  Of  this  use  of  dear  we  have  several  other 
instances  in  Shakespeare.  One  of  the  most  remark- 
able is  in  Hamlet^  i.  2,  w^here  Hamlet  exclaims,  — 

Would  I  had  met  my  dearest  foe  in  heaven 
Ere  I  had  seen  that  day ! 

Horne  Tooke  {Div.  of  Purley^  612,  etc.)  makes  a 
plausible  case  in  favor  of  dear  being  derived  from 
the  ancient  verb  derian^  to  hurt,  to  annoy,  and  of 
its  proper  meaning  being,  therefore,  injurious  or 
hateful.  His  notion  seems  to  be  that  from  this 
derian  we  have  dearth^  meaning  properly  that  sort 
of  injury  which  is  done  by  the  weather,  and  that,  a 
usual  consequence  of  dearth  being  to  make  the  prod- 
uce of  the  earth  high-priced,  the  adjective  dear  has 
thence  taken  its  common  meaning  of  precious.  This 
is  not  all  distinctly  asserted  ;  but  what  of  it  may  not 
be  explicitly  set  forth  is  supposed  and  implied.  It 
is,  however,  against  an  explanation  which  has  been 
generally  accepted,  that  there  is  no  appearance  of 
connection  between  derian  and  the  contemporary 
word  answering  to  dear  in  the  sense  of  high-priced, 
precious,  beloved,  which  is  deore^  diire^  or  dyre^ 
and  is  evidently  from  the  same  root,  not  with  derian^ 
but  with  debran^  or  dyran^  to  hold  dear,  to  love. 
There  is  no  doubt  about  the  existence  of  an  old 
English  verb  dere^  meaning  to  hurt,  the  unquestion- 
able representative  of  the  original  derian :  thus  in 
Chaucer  (C.  T.  1824)  Theseus  says  to  Palamon  and 
Arcite,  in  the  Knight's  Tale,  — 

And  ye  shul  bothe  anon  unto  me  swere 
That  never  mo  ye  shul  my  contree  dere^ 
Ne  maken  werre  upon  me  night  ne  day, 
But  ben  my  frendes  in  alle  that  ye  may. 

But  perhaps  we  may  get  most  easily  and  naturally 
at  the  sense  which  dear  sometimes  assumes  by  sup- 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  293 

posing  that  the  notion  properly  involved  in  it  of 
love,  having  first  become  generalized  into  that  of  a 
strong  affection  of  any  kind,  had  thence  passed  on 
into  that  of  such  an  emotion  the  very  reverse  of  love. 
We  seem  to  have  it  in  the  intermediate  sense  in  such 
instances  as  the  following :  — 

Some  dear  cause 
Will  in  concealment  wrap  me  up  a  while.  — Lear.,  iv.  3. 
A  precious  ring;  a  ring  that  I  must  use 
In  dear  employment.  —  Romeo  and  Juliet^  v.  3. 

And  even  w^heu  Hamlet  speaks  of  his  "  dearest  foe," 
or  when  Celia  remarks  to  Rosalind,  in  As  Tou  Like 
It^  \.  3,  "  My  father  hated  his  father  dearly^'  the 
word  need  not  be  understood  as  implying  more  than 
strong  or  passionate  emotion. 

348.  Here  wast  thou  bayed.  —  So  afterwards,  in 
497,  "  We  are  at  the  stake,  And  bayed  about  with 
many  enemies."  It  is  not  clear,  however,  in  what 
sense  the  verb  to  be  bayed  is  used  in  these  passages. 
Does  it  mean  to  be  embayed,  or  enclosed  ?  or  to  be 
barked  at?  or  to  be  made  to  stand,  as  it  is  phrased, 
at  bay?  The  bays  in  these  expressions  appear  to 
be  all  different  words.  [See  Webster,  and  Marsh's 
Wedgwood.]  In  The  Ta7ni7ig  of  the  Shrew^  v.  2, 
we  have  the  unusual  form  at  a  bay —  "  'Tis  thought 
your  deer  does  hold  you  at  a  bay." 

348.  Signed  in  thy  spoils  and  crimsoned  in  thy 
death.  —  Instead  oi death  the  First  Folio  has  Lethee^ 
the  others  Lethe;  and  the  passage  is  explained  as 
meaning  marked  and  distinguished  by  being  arrayed 
in  thy  spoils  (the  power  in  the  commonwealth  which 
was  thine),  and  made  crimson  by  being  as  it  were 
bathed  in  thy  shed  blood.  But  Steevens's  note  is 
entirely  unsatisfactory  :  *'  Lethe^'  he  says,  "  is  used 
by  many  of  the  old  translators  of  novels  for  death  ;  " 


294  Philological  Commentary,    [act  hi. 

and  then  be  gives  as  an  example  the  following  sen- 
tence from  the  Second  Part  of  Hey  wood's  Iron  Age^ 
printed  in  1632  :  — 

The  proudest  nation  that  great  Asia  nursed 
Is  now  extinct  in  lethe. 

Here  lethe  may  plainly  be  taken  in  its  proper  and 
usual  sense  of  forgetfulness,  oblivion.  No  other 
example  is  produced  either  by  the  commentators  or 
by  Nares.  Shakespeare,  too,  repeatedly  uses  lethe^ 
and  nowhere,  unless  it  be  in  this  passage,  in  any 
other  than  its  proper  sense.  If,  hov,^ever,  lethe  and 
lethum  (or  letuut)^  —  which  may,  or  may  not,  be 
connected, — were  really  sometimes  confounded  by 
the  popular  writers  of  the  early  part  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  they  are  kept  in  countenance  by  the 
commentators  of  the  eighteenth.  Steevens  goes  on 
to  notice,  as  affording  another  proof  that  lethe  some- 
times signified  death,  the  following  line  from  Cupid's 
Whirligigs  printed  in  1616  :  — 

For  vengeance'  wings  bring  on  thy  lethal  day ;  — 

and  he  adds  "  Dr.  Farmer  observes,  that  we  meet 
with  lethal  for  deadly  in  the  Information  for  Mungo 
Campbell."  It  is  not  easy  to  understand  this.  Who 
ever  doubted  that  deadly  was  the  proper  meaning 
of  lethalis  (from  lethutii)  ?  But  what  has  that  to 
do  with  the  signification  of  lethe  ?  I  do  not  know 
what  it  is  that  may  have  led  Nares  to  imagine  that, 
when  lethe  meant  death,  it  was  pronounced  as  a 
monosyllable.  Seeing,  however,  that  the  notion  of 
its  ever  having  that  signification  appears  to  be  a 
mere  delusion,  I  have  followed  Mr.  Collier  in  sup- 
posing it  to  be  here  a  misprint  for  deaths  which  was 
the  obvious  conjecture  of  several  of  the  editors  of 
the  last  century,  and  is  sanctioned  by  the  authority 


sc.  1.]  Julius  C^sar.  295 

of  his  MS.  annotator.  [Collier  in  his  Second  Edi- 
tion restores  Lethe^  which  is  the  reading  given  by 
Hudson,  Staunton,  and  White.  The  last  says, 
"  I  have  always  understood  this  to  mean,  crimsoned 
in  the  stream  which  bears  thee  to  oblivion.  .  .  .  No 
instance  has  been  produced  of  the  use  of  lethe  in 
any  other  sense  than  that  of  oblivion,  actual  or 
figurative."] 

348.  Strucken  by  many  princes.  —  It  is  stroken 
in  the  original  edition.  —  In  the  preceding  line, 
also,  "  the  heart  of  thee  "  is  there  misprinted  "  the 
hart  of  thee."  But  the  two  words  are  repeatedly 
thus  confounded  in  the  spelling  in  that  edition.  — 
Mr.  Collier  strangely  prefers  making  this  exclama- 
tion, '^  How  like  a  deer,"  etc.,  an  interrogatory  —  as 
if  Antony  asked  the  dead  body  in  how  far,  or  to  what 
precise  degree,  it  resembled  a  deer,  lying  as  it  did 
stretched  out  before  him. 

350.  The  enemies  of  Ccesar  shall  say  this. — 
Here  again,  as  in  "  This  shall  mark  Our  purpose 
necessary"  of  187,  we  have  a  use  of  shall.,  which 
now  only  remains  with  us,  if  at  all,  as  an  imitation 
of  the  archaic.  See  181.  A  singular  consequence 
has  arisen  from  the  change  that  has  taken  place. 
By  "  shall  say  this  "  in  the  present  passage  Shake- 
speare meant  no  more  than  would  now  be  expressed 
by  "  will  say  this  ;  "  yet  to  us  the  shall  elevates  the 
expression  beyond  its  original  import,  giving  it  some- 
thing, if  not  quite  of  a  prophetic,  yet  of  an  impas- 
sioned, rapt,  and  as  it  were  vision-seeing  character. 

351.  But  what  compact.  —  Compact  has  always, 
I  believe,  the  accent  upon  the  final  syllable  in  Shake- 
speare, whether  used  as  a  substantive,  as  a  verb,  or 
as  a  participle. 

351.    Will  you   be  pricked  in   number  of  our 


296  Philological  Commentary,     [act  hi. 

friends  ?  —  To  prick  is  to  note  or  mark  off.  The 
Sheriffs  [in  England]  are  still  so  nominated  by  a 
puncture  or  mark  being  made  at  the  selected  names 
in  the  list  of  qualified  persons,  and  this  is  the  vox 
signata^  or  established  word,  for  the  operation. 

352.  Swayed  from  the  point. —  Borne  away,  as 
by  a  wave,  from  the  point  which  I  had  in  view  and 
for  which  I  was  making. 

352.  Friends  am  I  with  you  all.  —  "  This  gram- 
matical impropriety,"  Henley  very  well  remarks, 
"  is  still  so  prevalent,  as  that  the  omission  of  the 
anomalous  s  would  give  some  uncouthness  to  the 
sound  of  an  otherwise  familiar  expression."  We 
could  not,  indeed,  S2Ly  '-'•  Friend  am  I  with  you  all ;  " 
we  should  have  to  turn  the  expression  in  some  other 
way.  In  Troilus  and  Cressida^  iv.  4,  however,  we 
have  "  And  I'll  grow  friend  with  danger."  Nor 
does  the  pluralism  oi  friends  depend  upon  that  of 
you  all:  "  I  am  friends  with  you  "  is  equally  the 
phrase  in  addressing  a  single  person.  /  with  you 
am  is  felt  to  be  equivalent  to  I  and  you  are. 

353.  Our  reasons  are  so  full  of  good  regard.  — 
So  full  of  what  is  entitled  to  favorable  regard.  Com- 
pare "  many  of  the  best  respect "  in  48. 

353.  That^  were  you^  Antony^  the  son  of  Ccesar. 
—  By  all  means  to  be  thus  pointed,  so  as  to  make 
Antony  the  vocative,  the  name  addressed  ;  not,  as  it 
sometimes  ludicrously  is,  "  were  you  Antony  the  son 
of  Caesar."     Son^  of  course,  is  emphatic. 

354.  Produce  his  body  to  the  market-place.  — 
We  now  say  "  produce  to "  with  a  person  only. 
[But,  as  White  suggests,  Antony  here  uses  produce 
in  its  radical  sense,  to  bear  forth.'\ 

354.  Speak  in  the  order  of  his  fmeral.  —  In 
the  order  is  in  the  course  of  the  ceremonial.    [Com- 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  297 

pare  the  expression  in  the  Prayer  Book,  "  The  Order 
for  the  Burial  of  the  Dead."]  Compare  "  That  An- 
tony speak  in  his  funeral,"  in  356 ;  and  "  Come  I  to 
speak  in  Caesar's  funeral,"  in  397. 

356.  The  Aside  here  is  not  marked  in  the  old 
copies. 

357.  ^y  your  pardon.  —  I  will  explain,  by,  or 
with,  your  pardon,  leave,  permission.  "  By  your 
leave  "  is  still  used. 

357'  Have  all  true  rites. — This  is  the  reading  of 
all  the  old  copies.  For  ti'ue  Pope  substituted  due.^ 
which  is  also  the  correction  of  Mr.  Collier's  MS.  an- 
notator.  [But,  as  Collier  says,  "  the  change  seems 
rather  for  the  worse,"  and  he  does  not  adopt  it.] 

357.  //  shall  advantage  more  than  do  us  "jurong. 

—  This  old  verb,  to  advantage^  is  fast  slipping  out 
of  our  possession.  —  Here  again  we  have,  according 
to  the  old  grammar,  simple  futurity  indicated  by 
shall  v^\\\\  the  third  person.     See  181. 

358.  /  know  not  what  may  fall.  —  We  now  com- 
monly say  to  fall  out^  rather  than  simply  to  fall.,  or 
to  befall. 

359.  Tou  shall  not  in  your  funeral  speech  blame 
us.  —  The  sense  and  the  prosody  concur  in  demand- 
ing an  emphasis  on  zis. 

359.  And  say  you  do't.  —  We  do  not  now  in  seri- 
ous or  elevated  writing  use  this  kind  of  contraction. 

361.  The  original  stage  direction  after  this  speech 
is,  ''''Exeunt.     Manet  Antony. ^^ 

362.  O  pardon  me^  thou  bleeding  piece  of  earth. 

—  So  in  all  the  early  editions,  and  also  in  the  greater 
number  of  those  of  the  last  century  [and  in  Hud- 
son's and  White's]  ;  but  unaccountably  altered  into 
"  thou  piece  of  bleeding  earth "  in  the  Variorum 
edition  of  Malone  and  Boswell,  the  text  of  which 


298  Philological  Commentary,    [act  hi. 

was  generally  taken  as  the  standard  for  subsequent 
reprints,  till  the  true  reading  was  restored  by  Mr. 
Knight. 

362.  That  ever  lived  in  the  tide  of  times.  —  This 
must  mean,  apparently,  in  the  course  or  flow  of 
times.  Tide  and  time^  however,  properly  mean  the 
same  thing.  Tide  is  only  another  form  of  Zeit^  the 
German  word  answering  to  our  English  time. 
[Compare  sfring-tide.,  even-tide.,  etc.]  Time.,  ^g^ini, 
is  the  French  terns.,  or  temps.,  the  Latin  tempus 
(which  has  also  in  one  of  its  senses,  the  part  of  the 
head  where  time  is  indicated  to  the  touch  by  the 
pulsations  of  the  blood,  been  strangely  corrupted, 
both  in  French  and  English,  into  temple.,  —  dis- 
tinguished, however,  in  the  former  tongue  from 
temple.,  a  church,  by  a  difference  of  gender,  and 
also  written  tempe).  [Time  is  Saxon  {tim.d).,  not 
French.] 

362.  [  Woe  to  the  hand.  —  So  the  Folio  of  1623. 
Dyce  and  White  read  hands.'] 

362.  A  curse  shall  light  upon  the  loins  of  men.  — 
This  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of  the  new  read- 
ings for  which  we  are  indebted  to  Mr.  Collier's  MS. 
annotator.  The  old  printed  text,  "  the  limbs  of 
men,"  was  felt  by  every  editor  not  enslaved  to  the 
First  Folio  to  be  in  the  highest  degree  suspicious. 
By  most  of  them  the  limbs  of  men  seems  to  have 
been  understood  to  mean  nothing  more  than  the 
bodies  or  persons  of  men  generally.  Steevens,  how- 
ever, says,  "  Antony  means  that  a  future  curse 
shall  commence  in  distempers  seizing  on  the  limbs 
of  men.,  and  be  succeeded  by  commotion,  cruelty, 
and  desolation  over  Italy."  A  strangely  precise 
style  of  prophecy  !  For  limbs  Warburton  proposed 
to  substitute  line.,  Hanmer  kind.,  and  Johnson 
livs.^  —  "  unless,"  he  adds,  "  we  read  these  lymmes 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  299 

of  men,  that  is,  these  bloodhounds  of  men."  The 
lymin^  lym^  lime^  timer ^  or  limehound  was  used  in 
hunting  the  wild  boar.  The  loins  of  men  means, 
of  course,  the  generations  of  men.  Even  if  pro- 
posed as  nothing  more,  this  would  have  been  one 
of  the  most  plausible  of  conjectures,  and  would 
probably  have  at  once  commanded  general  accept- 
ance. Warburton  hit  upon  nearly  what  seems  to 
have  been  the  meaning  of  Shakespeare,  with  \{\%line 
of  men  ;  but  how  much  less  Shakespearian  the  ex- 
pression !  [Hudson  and  White  give  limbs,  but  the 
latter  considers  it  a  very  doubtful  reading,  and  is 
"  almost  sure  "  that  Shakespeare  wrote  "  the  fonnes 
of  men."  Staunton  suggests  "  the  tombs  of  men," 
and  quotes  in  illustration  the  common  Oriental  male- 
diction, "  Cursed  be  thy  grave  !  "] 

362.  Quartered  with  the  hands  of  war.  —  So 
afterwards,  in  425,  "  Here  is  himself,  marred,  as 
you  see,  with  traitors."  See  124.  We  should  now 
rather  regard  the  hands  as  the  agents,  and  say  "  by 
the  hands  of  war." 

362.  With  Ate  by  his  side.  —  This  Homeric 
goddess  had  taken  a  strong  hold  of  Shakespeare's 
imagination.  In  Much  Ado  About  JVothifig;  ii.  i, 
Benedick,  inveighing  to  Don  Pedro  against  the  Lady 
Beatrice,  says,  '^  You  shall  find  her  the  infernal  Ate 
in  good  apparel."  In  King  yohn,  iv.  i,  John's 
mother,  Qiieen  Elinor,  is  described  by  Chatillon  as 
"  an  Ate  stirring  him  to  blood  and  strife."  And  in 
Lovers  Labour's  Lost.,  v.  2,  Biron,  at  the  representa- 
tion of  the  Nine  Worthies,  calls  out,  "  More  Ates, 
more  Ates ;  stir  them  on  !  stir  them  on  !  "  Where 
did  Shakespeare  get  acquainted  with  this  divinity, 
whose  name  does  not  occur,  I  believe,  even  in  any 
Latin  author? 


300  Philological  Commentary,     [act  hi. 

362.  Cry  Havoc  !  —  Havoc  is  the  Saxon  Jiafoc^ 
meaning  waste,  destruction;  whence  the  Jiawk^  so 
called  as  the  bird  of  waste  and  ravage.  Johnson 
states  on  the  authority  of  a  learned  correspondent 
(known  to  be  Sir  William  Blackstone),  that  "  in  the 
military  operations  of  old  times,  havoc  was  the  word 
by  which  declaration  was  made  that  no  quarter 
should  be  given."  Milton  in  one  place  makes  a 
verb  of  this  substantive :  "  To  waste  and  havoc 
yonder  world  "  {Par.  Lost^  x.  617). 

362.  Let  slip  the  dogs  of  war.  —  Notwithstand- 
ing the  apparently  considerable  difference  between 
schlupfen  and  scJilafen^  by  which  they  are  severally 
represented  in  modern  German,  slip  may  possibly 
have  been  originally  the  same  word  with  sleep.  In 
the  Anglo-Saxon,  although  the  common  form  is 
slcBpan  for  to  sleep  and  slipan  for  to  slip^  we  find 
indications  of  slepan  having  been  used  for  both. 
To  sleep,  or  fall  asleep,  may  have  been  regarded  as 
a  gliding,  or  softly  moving,  away.  —  To  let  slip  a 
dog  at  a  deer,  etc.,  was,  as  Malone  remarks,  the 
technical  phrase  of  Shakespeare's  time.  Hence  the 
leash^  out  of  which  it  was  thus  allowed  to  escape, 
was  called  the  slips.  The  proper  meaning,  indeed, 
of  leash  (in  French  lesse.^  or  laisse^  from  laisser)^  is 
that  which  lets  go  ;  and  this  is  probably  also  the  true 
meaning  of  the  Spanish  lasso;  although,  that  which 
lets  go,  or  from  which  we  let  go,  being  also  necessa- 
rily that  which  has  previously  detJiined,  lesse^  lasso^ 
leash^  and  also  lease,  have  all,  as  well  as  slip,  come 
to  be  regarded  as  involving  rather  the  latter  notion 
(of  detention  or  tenure),  that  being  really  the  prin- 
cipal or  most  important  office  which  what  is  called 
a  slip  or  leash  seems  to  perform.  It  was  perhaps  in 
this  way  also  that  the  verb  to  let  acquired  the  sense 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  301 

(now  nearly  obsolete)  of  to  hinder,  as  well  as  its 
more  ordinary  sense  of  to  permit. 

It  is  observed  by  Steele,  in  The  Tatler^  No.  137, 
that  by  "  the  dogs  of  war  '*  Shakespeare  probably 
meant j'fr^,  sword ^  2i\\Afa7nine^  according  to  what  is 
said  in  the  Chorus  to  Act  First  of  King  Henry  V. :  — 

Then  should  the  warlike  Harry,  like  himself, 

Assume  the  port  of  Mars ;  and,  at  his  heels. 

Leashed  in  like  hounds,  should  Famine,  Sword,  and  Fire 

Crouch  for  emploj^ment. 

To  this  we  might  add  what  Talbot  says,  in  i  Henry 
VI.  iv.  2,  to  the  Captains  of  the  French  forces  be- 
fore Bordeaux :  — 

You  tempt  the  fury  of  my  three  attendants. 

Lean  Famine,  quartering  Steel,  and  climbing  Fire. 

In  illustration  of  the  passage  from  Henry  the  Pifth 
Steevens  quotes  what  Holinshed  makes  that  King  to 
have  said  to  the  people  of  Roan  (or  Rouen)  :  "  He 
declared  that  the  Goddess  of  Battle,  called  Bellona, 
had  three  handmaidens  ever  of  necessity  attending 
upon  her,  as  Blood,  Fire,  and  Famine."  And  at 
that  from  Henry  the  Sixth  Malone  gives  the  follow- 
ing extract  from  Hall's  Chronicle :  "  The  Goddess 
of  War,  called  Bellona,  .  .  .  hath  these  three  hand- 
maids ever  of  necessity  attending  on  her ;  Blood, 
Fire,  and  Famine  ;  which  three  damosels  be  of  that 
force  and  strength  that  every  one  of  them  alone  is 
able  and  sufficient  to  torment  and  afflict  a  proud 
prince  ;  and  they  all  joined  together  are  of  puissance 
to  destroy  the  most  populous  country  and  most  rich- 
est region  of  the  world." 

It  might,  perhaps,  be  questioned  whether  the 
words  "  And  let  slip  the  dogs  of  war "  ought  not 
to  be  considered  as  also  part  of  the  exclamation  of 
Caesar's  spirit. 


302  Philological  Commentary,     [act  hi. 

362.    That  this  foul  deed^  etc.  —  So  that. 

362.  With  carrion  men.  —  See  177.  — The  stage 
direction  in  the  original  edition  is  '•'•Enter  Octavids 
Servant^ 

362.  Tou  serve  Octavius  Ccesar.  —  So  called 
throughout  both  this  Play  and  that  of  Antony  and 
Cleopatra.  He  was  properly  now  Ccesar  Octa- 
vianus. 

365.  The  stage  direction,  Seeing"  the  Body^  is 
modern. 

366.  For  mine  eyes.  —  This,  which  is  clearly  right, 
is  the  reading  of  the  Second  Folio.  The  First  has 
"  Passion  I  see  is  catching  from  mine  eyes."  [Dyce 
suggests  begin  here,  which  White  approves ;  but 
both  leave  began  in  the  text.] 

368.    Tell  him.  what  hath  chanced.  —  See  69. 

368.  No  Rome  of  safety.  —  See  ^6. 

368.  Till  I  have  borne  this  corse.  —  Corse  here  is 
a  modern  conjectural  substitution  for  the  course  of 
the  First  and  Second  Folios,  and  the  coarse  of  the 
Third  and  Fourth. 

368.  The  cruel  issue  of  these  bloody  men.  —  The 
result  or  end  which  they  have  brought  about. 

368.  According  to  the  which.  —  This  archaism 
occurs  occasionally  in  Shakespeare,  as  it  does  also  in 
the  common  translation  of  the  Scripfurcs :  "  Every 
tree  in  the  which  is  the  fruit  of  a  tree  yielding  seed  " 
(^Gen.  i.  29).     [Compare  the  French  le-^uel.^ 

368.  Lend  me  your  hand.  —  We  should  now 
rather  say  a  hand.  —  The  stage  direction  that  fol- 
lows is  in  the  original  edition,  '•'•Exeunt.  Enter 
Brutus  and  goes  into  the  Pulpit^  and  Cassius  with 
the  Plebeians" 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  303 

Scene  II.  —  369.  For  Cit.  here  the  original  edi- 
tion has  Pie.;  and  afterwards  for  i  OV.,  2  OV., 
3  QV.,  it  has  i  Ple.^  2,  3  ;  and  for  Cit.  at  375,  etc., 
it  has  All. 

370.  And  part  the  numbers.  —  Divide  the  multi- 
tude. 

370.  And  public  reasons  shall  be  re^idered.  —  To 
refider  is  to  give  back  or  in  return  for.  Thus  in  348, 
as  we  have  seen,  Antony  asks  Brutus  and  his  con- 
federates to  reiider  him  their  hands  in  return  for  his 
own.  Here  the  act  which  had  been  done,  the  slaugh- 
ter of  Caesar,  is  that  in  return  or  compensation  for 
which,  as  it  were,  the  reasons  are  to  be  given.  —  For 
the  prosody  of  the  present  line,  see  the  note  on  "  She 
dreamt  to-night  she  saw  my  statue  "  in  246.  It  may 
be  observed  that  in  the  First  Folio,  where  the  elision 
of  the  e  in  the  verbal  affix  -ed  is  usually  marked, 
the  spelling  is  here  rendred ;  but  this  may  leave  it 
.;till  doubtful  whether  the  word  was  intended  to  be 
represented  as  of  two  or  of  three  syllables.  It  is  the 
same  in  372. 

372.  Exit  Cassius^  etc.  Brutus  goes  into  the 
Rostrum.  —  This  stage  direction  is  all  modern. 
The  Rostrum  is  the  same  that  is  called  "  the  public 
chair "  in  388,  and  "  the  pulpit "  elsewhere.  See 
3^7'  3^9'  354'  35 7»  359-  Rostrum  is  not  a  word 
which  Shakespeare  anywhere  uses.  Nor,  indeed,  is 
it  a  legitimate  formation.  It  ought  to  be  Rostra^  in 
the  plural,  as  it  always  is  in  Latin. 

373.  The  7ioble  Brutus  is  ascended,  —  Even  still 
we  commonly  say  is  come^  is  become.,  is  gone.,  is 
arrived^  is  Jled^  is  escaped^  etc.  In  the  freer  con- 
dition of  the  language  formerly  such  a  mode  of  ex- 
pression was  carried  a  good  deal  farther.  Thus,  in 
die  present  Play,  we  have  in  328,  "  [Antony  isj  fled 


304  Philological  Commentary,     [act  hi. 

to  his  house  amazed  ;  "  in  398,  "  O  judgment !  thou 
art  fled  to  brutish  beasts ; "  in  458,  "  Brutus  and 
Cassius  Are  rid  like  madmen  through  the  gates  of 
Rome ;  "  in  509,  "  Hark,  he  is  arrived  ;  "  in  623, 
"  The  deep  of  night  is  crept  upon  our  talk ;  "  in 
703,  "  This  morning  are  they  fled  away  and  gone  ;  " 
in  721,  "Time  is  come  round;"  and  "My  life  is 
run  his  compass." 

\_I am  come^  he  is  g-one^  etc.,  are  equivalent  to  / 
have  come^  he  has  gone^  etc.  The  former  are  the 
earlier  and  natural  forms,  and  are  still  in  good  use, 
though  decidedly  less  common  than  the  latter.  The 
writers  on  English  grammar  have  generally  either 
ignored  these  obsolescent  forms,  or  have  attempted 
to  explain  them  as  passive.^  In  French,  Italian, 
German,  and  other  languages,  this  conjugation  with 
be  is  the  regular  one  for  certain  verbs.  It  is  not 
found  in  the  Spanish.  In  Italian  and  German,  as 
in  Anglo-Saxon,  the  verb  to  be  can  be  conjugated 
only  in  this  way  :  io  so7io  stato^  ich  bin  gewesen^  etc. 
Of  course,  forms  like  /  have  bee?t^  j'^i  c/?e,  yo  he 
sido^  etc.,  are  illogical,  according  to  the  commonly 
received  explanation  of  the  use  of  have  as  an  auxil- 
iary.    See  Latham,  English  Language^  Fifth  Ed. 

§  717-] 

374.  Romans^  country meit^  and  lovers.  —  See  259. 

374.  Have   respect    to   mine  honor,  —  That   is, 

merely,  look  to  (not  look  up  to).     We  still  employ 

*  [One  of  the  most  popular,  and  on  the  whole  one  of  the 
least  objectionable,  of  the  school  *'  Grammars  "  of  the  day 
states  the  matter  thus  :  "  Most  intransitive  verbs  do  not  ad- 
mit of  the  passive  form.  .  .  .  But  the  verbs  c^/W£j  and ^^,  and 
perhaps  a  few  others,  may,  in  some  cases,  properly  assume 
the  passive  form;  as  The  time  is  come.  Verbs  of  this  de- 
scription are  usually  denominated  neuter  passive  verbs'^ 
Of  course,  is  come  is  really  no  more  "passive"  than  is 
black.-] 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  305 

such  words  as  respect  and  regard  in  different  sensesi 
according  to  circumstances.  I  look  with  regard,  or 
with  respect,  upon  this  man,  or  upon  that  institution. 
With  regard,  or  with  respect,  to  another  man  or 
institution  I  have  nothing  to  say  but  what  is  con- 
demnatory, or  notliing  to  say  at  all. 

374.  Censure  me.  —  That  is,  merely,  pass  judg- 
ment upon  me.     See  328. 

374.  Any  dear  friend  of  Ccesar's^  to  him  I  say. 
—  It  is  "  to  them  I  say"  in  the  Second  Folio. 

374.  Not  that  I  loved  Ccesar  less,  —  Less  than  he 
(the  "  dear  friend  ")  loved  Caesar. 

374.  But  that  I  loved  Rome  more.  —  More  than 
he  (the  "  dear  friend  of  Caesar  ")  loved  Rome. 

374.  Had  you  rather,  —  See  note  on  Had  as  lief 
in  54. 

374.  To  live  all  freemen.  —  It  is  commonly  print- 
ed "  free  men,"  in  two  words.  But  the  writer  cannot 
have  intended  that  such  prominence  should  be  given 
to  the  term  men^  the  notion  conveyed  by  which  is 
equally  contained  in  slaves ;  for  which,  indeed,  we 
might  have  had  bondmen.,  with  no  difference  of  effect. 
If  it  ought  to  be  "free  men"  here,  it  should  be 
"Who  is  here  so  base  that  would  be  a  bond  man?  " 
a  few  lines  farther  on.  In  the  original  edition  it  is 
"  freemen." 

374.  There  is  tears^  etc.  —  In  many  modern  edi- 
tions this  is  changed  into  "  There  are,''  But  the 
tears,  joy,  etc.,  are  regarded  as  making  one  thing. 
Instead  of  "  There  is,"  it  might  have  been  "  This 
is,"  or  "  That  is." 

375.  The  stage  direction  is  modern. 

376.  The  question  of  his  death.  —  The  word 
question  is  here  used  in  a  somewhat  peculiar  sense. 
It  seems  to  mean  the  statement  of  the  reasons.     In 

20 


3o6  Philological  Commentary,    [act  hi. 

a  note  on  the  expression  in  Hamlet^  ii.  2,  "  Little 
eyases,  that  cry  out  on  the  top  of  question,"  Steevens 
gives  it  as  his  opinion  that  question  "  in  this  place, 
as  in  many  others,  signifies  conversation^  dialogued 
And  he  quotes  in  corroboration  Antonio's  remark, 
in  The  Merchant  of  Venice^  iv.  i,  "  I  pray  you, 
think  you  question  with  the  Jew."  But  in  that 
passage  the  meaning  of  the  word  is  merely  the 
ordinary  one,  you  debate,  argue,  hold  controversy, 
with.  The  following  may  perhaps  be  adduced  as 
an  instance  of  the  use  of  the  word  in  a  somewhat 
larger  sense,  involving  little  or  nothing  of  the  notion 
of  a  doubt  or  dispute :  "  Thou  shalt  accompany 
us  to  the  place,  where  we  will,  not  appearing  what 
we  are,  have  some  question  with  the  shepherd." 
Winter's  Tale,  iv.  i. 

376.  Nor  his  offences  enforced.  —  Dwelt  upon 
and  pressed,  or  more  than  simply  stated.  In  the 
same  sense  in  Coriolajtus,  ii.  3,  the  tribune  Sicinius 
exhorts  the  populace  touching Marcius — "Enforce 
his  pride.  And  his  old  hate  unto  you." 

376.  As  -which  of  you  shall  not?  — We  find  which 
in  the  Saxon  forms  hwilc,  hwylc,  and  hwelc  —  forms 
which  have  been  supposed  to  arise  out  of  the  com- 
bination of  the  relative  hwa  with  lie  (like),  the 
annexation  being  designed  to  give  greater  general- 
ization or  indefiniteness  of  meaning  to  the  pronoun. 
At  all  events,  the  word  is  used  with  reference  to 
nouns  of  all  genders,  as  is  also  its  representative  the 
ivhilk,  or  quhilk,  of  the  old  Scottish  dialect,  and  as 
the  English  which,  too,  formerly  was  even  when  an 
ordinary  relative  (as  we  have  it  in  the  time-honored 
formula  "Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven"),  and 
still  is  both  whenever  it  is  interrogative  and  likewise 
when  the  antecedent  to  which  it  is  relative  is  either 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  307 

suppressed  or  joined  with  it  in  the  same  concord  and 
government.  Thus,  we  say  of  persons  as  well  as  of 
things,  "Which  was  it?"  and  "I  do  not  know 
which  of  them  it  was,"  as  Brutus,  addressing  his 
fellow-citizens,  has  here  "  Which  of  you  ; "  and  it 
is  even  allowable  to  say  "  Louis  XVI.,  which  king 
it  was  in  whose  reign  —  or,  in  the  reign  of  which 
king  it  was  —  that  the  French  Revolution  broke 
out." 

The  stage  direction  in  the  original  edition  is, 
^''Enter  Mark  Antony^  with  Ccesar's  body" 

376.  My  best  lover.  —  See  259. 

381.  Shall  now  be  crowned  in  Brutus.  —  The 
now  is  not  in  the  old  texts,  but  was  supplied  by 
Pope,  and  has  been  retained  by  Malone  and  Bos- 
well,  as  well  as  by  Steevens.  [So  Collier,  Hudson, 
and  White.  Dyce  follows  the  old  text,  but  doubts 
its  integrity.]  It  may  not  be  the  true  word,  but  that 
some  word  is  wanting  is  certain.  The  dialogue  here 
is  evidently  intended  to  be  metrical,  and  "  Shall  be 
crowned  in  Brutus  "  is  not  a  possible  commencement 
of  a  verse. 

386.  Do  grace  to  Ccesar's  corpse.  —  We  have  lost 
this  idiom,  though  we  still  say  "  to  do  honor  to." 
[Compare  407  :  "  do  him  reverence."] 

389.  I  am  beholden  to  you.  —  Both  here  and  also 
in  391  the  first  three  Folios  have  all  beholding^ 
which  may  possibly  have  been  the  way  in  which 
Shakespeare  wrote  the  word  (as  it  is  that  in  which 
it  was  often  written  in  his  day),  but  may  nevertheless 
be  rectified  on  the  same  principle  as  other  similar 
improprieties  with  which  all  modern  editors  have 
taken  that  liberty.  Yet  beholding  is,  I  believe, 
always  Bacon's  word ;  as  in  his  Tenth  Essay  — 
"  The  stage  is  more  beholding  to  love  than  the  life 


3o8  Philological  Commentary,    [act  hi. 

of  man."  Even  in  Clarendon,  reporting  the  words 
of  Qiieen  Henrietta  to  himself,  we  have  —  "Her 
old  confessor.  Father  Philips,  .  .  .  always  told  her, 
that,  as  she  ought  to  continue  firm  and  constant  to 
her  own  religion,  so  she  was  to  live  well  towards  the 
Protestants  who  deserved  well  from  her,  and  to  whom 
she  was  beholding.'^  {Hist.  Book  xiii.)  The  initial 
syllable  of  the  word  is  of  more  interest  than  its  ter- 
mination. 

The  complete  disappearance  from  the  modern 
form  of  the  English  language  of  the  verbal  prefix 
ge  is  a  remarkable  fact,  and  one  which  has  not 
attracted  the  notice  which  it  deserves.  This  aug- 
ment may  be  said  to  have  been  the  favorite  and  most 
distinguishing  peculiarity  of  the  language  in  the 
period  preceding  the  Norman  Conquest.  In  the 
inflection  of  the  verb  it  was  not  merely,  as  in  mod- 
ern German,  the  sign  of  the  past  participle  passive, 
but  might  be  prefixed  to  any  other  part ;  and  the 
words  of  all  kinds  which  commenced  with  it,  and  in 
which  it  was  not  inflectional,  amounted  to  several 
thousands.  Yet  now  there  is  no  native  English 
word  having  ge  for  its  initial  syllable  in  existence ; 
nor,  indeed,  has  there  been  for  many  centuries : 
there  are  not  only  no  such  words  in  Chaucer,  whose 
age  (the  fourteenth^century)  is  reckoned  the  com- 
mencement of  the  period  of  what  is  denominated 
Middle  English ;  there  are  none  even  in  Robert  de 
Brunne,  and  very  few,  if  any,  in  Robert  of  Glouces- 
ter, who  belong  to  the  thirteenth  century,  or  to  the 
age  of  what  is  commonly  designated  Early  English. 
The  inflectional  ge  is  found  at  a  comparatively  late 
date  only  in  the  reduced  or  softened  form  of  jk,  and^ 
even  so  scarcely  after  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth 
century  (which  may  be  taken  as  the  date  of  the  com- 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  309 

mencement  of  Modern  English)  except  in  a  few 
antique  words  preserved  or  revived  by  Spenser.  If 
two  or  three  such  words  as  yclad  and  yclept  are  to 
be  found  in  Shakespeare,  they  are  introduced  with  a 
view  to  a  burlesque  or  grotesque  effect,  as  they  might 
be  by  a  writer  of  the  present  day.  They  did  not 
belong  to  the  language  of  his  age  any  more  than 
they  did  to  that  of  Tliomson,  who  in  the  last  century 
sprinkled  his  Castle  of  Indolence  with  words  of  this 
description,  the  better  to  keep  up  his  imitation  of 
Spenser.  As  for  the  "  star-ypointing  pyramid" 
attributed  to  Milton  (in  his  lines  on  Shakespeare),  it 
is  in  all  probability  a  mistake  of  his  modern  editors : 
"  ypoint^tjf "  might  have  been  credible,  but  "  ypoint- 
ing''  scarcely  is.  The  true  reading  probably  is 
"  starry-pointing."  [Compare  Marsh,  Led.  on  Eng. 
Lang,  Pirst  Series^  p.  333.]  It  has  commonly 
been  assumed  that,  with  such  rare  and  insignificant 
exceptions  (if  exceptions  they  are  to  be  considered), 
the  old  prefix  ge  has  entirely  passed  away  or  been 
ejected  from  the  language  in  its  present  state,  — that 
it  has  dropped  oft",  like  a  decayed  member,  without 
anything  being  substituted  in  its  place.  But  the  fact 
is  not  so.  It  is  certain,  that,  both  in  its  inflectional 
and  in  its  non-inflectional  character,  it  still  exists  in  a 
good  many  words  in  a  disguised  form,  —  in  that  name- 
ly of  be.  Many  of  our  words  beginning  with  be 
cannot  be  otherwise  accounted  for.  Our  beloved., 
for  example,  is  undoubtedly  the  Saxon  gelufed. 
Another  remarkable  instance  is  that  of  the  familiar 
word  belief  or  believe.  The  Saxon  has  no  such 
verb  as  belyfan;  its  form  for  our  believe  is  gelyfan 
(the  same  .with  the  modern  German  glauben). 
Again,  to  become  (at  least  in  the  sense  of  to  suit) 
is  the  Saxon  geciveman:    there  is  no   becweman. 


3IO  Philological  Commentary,    [act  hi. 

Become^  in  this  sense,  it  ought  to  be  noticed,  has 
apparently  no  connection  with  to  come  (from  coman, 
or  cuman)  ;  we  have  its  root  cweman  in  the  old 
English  to  quem^  meaning  to  please,  used  by  Chau- 
cer. And  the  German  also,  like  our  modern  English, 
has  in  this  instance  lost  or  rejected  both  the  simple 
form  and  the  ge-  form,  retaining,  or  substituting, 
only  bequein  and  bequeinen.  Nor  is  there  any 
belaitg  or  belong ;  our  modern  belong  is  from  the 
ancient  gelang.  In  like  manner  there  is  no  such 
Saxon  verb  as  besecan;  there  is  only  gesecan^  from 
which  we  have  formed  our  beseek  and  beseech.  So 
tacn^  or  tacen^  is  a  token,  from  which  is  getacnian^ 
to  denote  by  a  token  or  sign  ;  there  is  no  betacnian : 
yet  we  say  to  betoken.  And  there  are  probably 
other  examples  of  the  same  thing  among  the  words 
now  in  use  having  be  for  the  commencing  syllable 
(of  which  the  common  dictionaries  give  us  about  a 
couple  of  hundreds),  although  the  generality  of  them 
are  only  modern  fabrications  constructed  in  imitation 
of  one  another,  and  upon  no  other  principle  than  the 
assumption  that  the  syllable  in  question  may  be  pre- 
fixed to  almost  any  verb  whatever.  Such  are  he- 
praise^  bepowder^  bespatter^  bet/iump^  and  many 
more.  Only  between  thirty  and  forty  seem  to  be 
traceable  to  Saxon  verbs  beginning  with  be. 

The  facts  that  have  been  mentioned  sufficiently 
explain 'the  word  beholden.  It  has  nothing  to  do 
with  the  modern  behold,  or  the  ancient  behealdan 
(which,  like  its  modern  representative,  signified  to 
see  or  look  on),  but  is  another  form,  according  to 
the  corruption  which  we  have  seen  to  take  place 
in  so  many  other  instances,  of  gehealden,  the  past 
participle  passive  of  healdan,  to  hold ;  whence  its 
meaning,  here  and  always,  of  held,  bound,  obliged. 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  311 

It  corresponds  to  the  modern  German  gekalten^  of 
the  same  signification,  and  is  quite  distinct  from 
beJialten^  the  past  participle  passive  of  the  verb 
behalten^  which  signifies  kept,  preserved. 

One  word,  which  repeatedly  occurs  in  Shake- 
speare, containing  the  prefix  ge^  has  been  generally 
misunderstood  by  his  editors.  What  they  all,  I 
believe  without  exception,  print  I  wis,  or  Iiviss,  as 
if  it  were  a  verb  with  its  nominative,  is  undoubtedly 
one  word,  and  that  an  adverb,  signifying  certainly, 
probably.  It  ought  to  be  written  ywis,  or  ywiss,  cor- 
responding as  it  does  exactly  to  the  modern  German 
gewiss.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  Sir  Frederic  Madden 
in  the  Glossary  to  his  edition  of  Syr  Gawayne 
(printed,  for  the  Roxburgh  Club,  in  1839)  expresses 
a  doubt  whether  it  were  "  not  regarded  as  a  pronoun 
and  verb  by  the  writers  of  the  fifteenth  century." 
But  this  supposition  Dr.  Guest  {Pkil.  Proc.  ii.  160) 
regards  as  wholly  gratuitous.  He  believes  there  is 
not  a  single  instance  to  be  found  in  which  iviss,  or 
wisse,  has  been  used  in  the  sense  of  to  know,  "till 
our  modern  glossarists  and  editors  chose  to  give  it 
that  signification."  Johnson  in  his  Dictionary  enters 
wis  as  a  verb,  meaning  to  think,  to  imagine.  So  also 
Nares  in  his  Glossary.  [The  error  is  not  corrected 
in  Halliwell  and  Wright's  revised  edition  of  Nares, 
1859.]  ^*  ^s  ^^  o"ly  explanation  which  any  of  these 
authorities  give  of  the  form  in  question.  "  The  pre- 
terite," adds  Nares,  "is  wist.  The  present  tense  is 
seldom  found  but  in  the  first  person ;  the  preterite 
was  common  in  all  the  persons."  In  a  note  on  the 
passage  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  ii.  9,  "  There 
be  fools,  alive,  I  wis  [as  they  all  print  it].  Silvered 
o*er,"  Steevens  writes  (  Variorum  edition,  v.  71)  :  "/ 
wis^  I  know.     Wissen,  German.    So  in  King  Henry 


312  Philological  Commentary,    [act  hi. 

the  Sixth :  '  I  wis  your  grandam  had  no  worser 
match.'  Again,  in  the  Comedy  of  King  Cambyses  : 
'  Yea,  I  wis,  shall  you,  and  that  with  all  speed.' 
Sidney,  Ascham,  and  Waller  use  the  word."  The 
line  here  quoted  from  Shakespeare  is  not  in  King 
Henry  VI. ^  but  in  Richard  III.^  i.  3,  and  runs,  "  I 
wis  [  Twis]  your  grandam  had  a  worser  match."  So 
in  the  Taming"  of  the  Shrew.,  i.  i,  "  Twis.,  it  is  not 
half  way  to  her  heart."  Chaucer,  though  his  adverb 
is  commonly  ^w/5,  has  at^least  in  one  instance  sim- 
ply wis :  — 

Nay,  nay,  quod  she,  God  help  me  so,  as  wis 
This  is  to  much,  and  it  were  Goddes  wil. 

C.  T.  11,781. 

The  syllable  wis  is,  no  doubt,  the  same  element  that 
we  have  both  in  the  German  wissen  and  in  our  Eng- 
lish guess.  [Compare  Marsh,  Lectures.,  First  Series, 
P-  333?  foot-note.] 

394.  We  are  blest  that  Rome  is  rid  of  him,  — 
The  Second  Folio  has  "  We  diXQ  glad." 

398.  [  The  evil  that  men  do.,  etc.  —  Compare 
Henry  VIII..,  iv.  2 :  "  Men's  evil  manners  live  in 
brass  ;  their  virtues  we  write  in  water."] 

398.  Here.,  under  leave  of  Brutus.,  and  the  rest, 
—  Compare  "By  your  pardon"  of  357. 

398.  When  that  the  poor  have  cried.  —  The 
that  in  such  cases  as  this  is  merely  a  summary  or 
compendious  expression  of  what  follows,  which  was 
convenient,  perhaps,  in  a  ruder  condition  of  the  lan- 
guage, as  more  distinctly  marking  out  the  clause  to 
be  comprehended  under  the  when.  We  still  com- 
monly use  it  with  now.,  when  it  serves  to  discriminate 
the  conjunction  from  the  adverb,  although  not  with 
other  conjunctions  which  are  never  adverbs.  Chau- 
cer often  introduces  with  a  that  even  tlie  clause  that 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  313 

follows  a  relative  pronoun;  as  (C.  T.  982),  "The 
Minotaur  which  that  he  slew  in  Crete  ; "  or  (  C  T. 
988)  "With  Creon,  which  that  was  of  Thebes 
king." 

398.  Tou  all  did  see,  that  on  the  Lupercal.  — 
See  17. 

398.  What  cause  withholds  you,  then,  to  mourn 
for  him  ?  —  We  should  now  say,  "  Withholds  you 
from  mourning."  We  could  not  use  withhold  fol- 
lowed by  the  infinitive. 

401.  Has  he  not,  masters  ? —  The  common  read- 
ing is  "Has  he,  masters?"  [So  Collier,  Dyce, 
Hudson,  and  White.]  The  prosody  clearly  demands 
the  insertion  of  some  monosyllable ;  Capell  accord- 
ingly inserted  my  before  masters;  but  the  word 
required  by  the  sense  and  the  connection  evidently 
is  not.  The  correction,  though  conjectural,  is  there- 
fore one  which  may  be  regarded  as  of  nearly  abso- 
lute necessity  and  certainty.  Masters  was  the 
common  term  of  address  to  a  miscellaneous  assembly 
formerly.  So  again  in  407 ;  where,  however,  the 
word  is  Maisters  in  both  the  First  and  Second 
Folios,  although  not  usually  so  elsewhere. 

403.   Some  will  dear  abide  it,  —  See  326. 

407.  And  none  so  poor  to  do  him  reverence. — The 
omission  of  one  of  two  correlative  words  (such  as  the 
as  answering  to  the  so  here)  is,  when  no  ambiguity 
is  thereby  occasioned,  allowable  in  almost  all  cir- 
cumstances. The  manner  in  which  the  clause  is 
hung  on  to  what  precedes  by  the  conjunction  is  such 
as  to  preclude  the  necessity  of  a  new  copula  or  affir- 
mative term.  It  is  as  if  it  were  "  with  none  so  poor," 
etc.  And  and  is  logically  (whatever  it  may  be  ety- 
mologically)  equivalent  to  with.     So  in  164,  "Yes, 


314  Philological  Commentary,     [act  hi. 

every  man  of  them  ;  and  no  man  here  But  honours 
you." 

407.  Let  but  the  commons  hear  this  testament.  — 
The  commonalty,  the  common  people. 

407.  And  dip  their  napkins  in  his  sacred  blood,  — 
A  napkin  (connected  with  napery^  from  the  French 
nappe ^  a  cloth,  which,  again,  appears  to  be  a  cor- 
ruption of  the  Latin  mappa,  of  the  same  signification, 
the  original  also  of  our  map^  and  of  the  mappe  of 
the  French  mappemonde^  that  is  mappa  mundi) 
is  still  the  common  name  for  a  pocket  handkerchief 
in  Scotland.  It  is  also  that  commonly  employed  by 
Shakespeare :  see  the  Third  Act  of  Othello^  and  the 
Fourth  Act  of  As  Tou  Like  It.  —  Compare  247. 
[So  in  Hamlet.,  v.  2.  Compare  Luke  xix.  20; 
yohn  xi.  44 ;  xx.  7.] 

411.  Read  the  will.,  etc.  —  This  and  most  of  the 
subsequent  exclamations  of  the  populace  need  not  be 
considered  as  verse. 

412.  /  have  overshot  myself^  to  tell  you  of  it.  — 
That  is,  I  have  overshot  myself  (done  more  than  ] 
had  intended)  by  telling  you  of  it. 

418.  He  comes  down.,  etc.  —  This  stage  directioi. 
is  not  in  the  older  copies. 

421.  Stand  from  the  hearse.  —  The  hearse  was 
the  frame  or  stand  on  which  the  body  lay.  It  is  the 
French  herse  or  herce.,  meaning  a  portcullis  or  har- 
row;  whence  the  English  term  seems  to  have  been 
applied  to  whatever  was  constructed  of  bars  or  beams 
laid  crosswise. 

425.  That  day  he  overcame  the  Nervii.  —  These 
words  certainly  ought  not  to  be  made  a  direct  state- 
ment, as  they  are  by  the  punctuation  of  the  Variorum 
and  of  most  other  modern  editions.     [Collier,  Dyce, 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  315 

Hudson,  and  White  have  the  same  punctuation  as 
Craik.] 

425.  As  rushing  out  of  doors ^  to  be  resolved,  — 
See  338. 

425.  This  was  the  most  unkindest  cut  of  all,  — 
See  336. 

425.  For  Brutus^  as  you  know^  was  Caesar's  an- 
gel. —  I  cannot  think  that  the  meaning  can  be,  as 
Boswell  suggests,  his  guardian  angel.  It  is  much 
more  natural  to  understand  it  as  being  simply  his 
best  beloved,  his  darling. 

425.  JFor  when  the  noble  CcBsar  saw  him  stab. — 
The  him  is  here  strongly  emphatic,  notwithstanding 
its  occupation  of  one  of  the  places  assigned  by  the  com- 
mon rule  to  short  or  unaccented  syllables.     See  435. 

425.  Even  at  the  base  of  Pompefs  statue.  — 
See  246. 

425.  Which  all  the  while  ran  blood.  —  This  is 
almost  in  the  words  of  North*s  Plutarch :  "  Against 
the  base  whereupon  Pompey's  image  stood,  which 
ran  all  of  a  gore  blood." 

425.  Whilst  bloody  treason  flourished  over  us.  — 
That  is,  treason  triumphed, — put  forth,  as  it  were, 
its  flowers,  —  shot  up  into  vigorous  efflorescence, — 
over  us. 

425.  The  dint  of  pity.  —  Dint  seems  to  be  the 
same  word  with  dent^  or  indentation,  that  is,  the  im- 
pression made  as  by  a  tooth.  It  is  commonly  dent 
in  the  old  writers. 

425.  These  are  gracious  drops.  —  Falling,  the 
thought  seems  to  be,  like  the  bountiful  and  refresh- 
ing rain  from  heaven. 

425.  Marred.,  as  you  see.,  with  traitors.  —  See  362. 

431.  We  will  be  revenged.,  etc.  —  This  speech  is 
printed  in  the  First  Folio  as  if  it  were  verse,  thus :  — 


3i6  Philological  Commentary,     [act  hi 

We  will  be  revenged  :  revenge ; 

About,  —  seek,  —  burn,  —  fire,  —  kill,  —  slay  I 

Let  not  a  traitor  live. 

432.  Stay^  countrymen,  —  To  this  speech  Mr. 
Collier's  MS.  annotator  appends  the  stage  direction, 
"  They  are  rushing  out" 

435.  What  private  griefs  they  have.  —  See  129. 
So  again  in  518 :  "  Speak  your  griefs  softly;"  and 
"  Enlarge  your  griefs." 

435.  That  gave  me  public  leave  to  speak  of 
him.  —  The  Second  Folio  has  "  That  give  me." 
Mr.  Collier  restores  gave. 

435.  For  I  have  neither  wit.,  etc.  —  This  is  the 
reading  of  the  Second  Folio.  The  First  has  writ^ 
which  Malone  actually  adopts  and  defends  !  Here  is 
a  most  animated  and  admirable  enumeration  of  the 
various  powers,  faculties,  and  arts  by  which  a  great 
orator  is  enabled  "  to  stir  men's  blood,"  beginning, 
naturally,  with  that  gift  of  imagination  and  invention 
which  is  at  once  the  highest  of  them  all  and  the 
fountain  of  most  of  the  others  ;  and  this  editor,  rather 
than  admit  the  probability  of  the  misprint  of  a  single 
letter  in  a  volume  swarming  with  undeniable  typo- 
graphical errata,  would  make  Antony  substitute  the 
ridiculous  remark  that  the  first  requisite  for  his  pur- 
pose, and  that  in  which  he  was  chiefly  deficient,  was 
what  he  calls  a  writ.,  meaning  a  written  speech  !  Is 
it  possible  that  such  a  critic  can  have  had  the  smallest 
feeling  of  anything  in  Shakespeare  above  the  level 
of  the  merest  prose?  "  Wit,"  he  goes  on  to  tell  us, 
"  in  our  author's  time  had  not  its  present  significa- 
tion, but  meant  understanding."  The  fact  is,  that 
there  are  numerous  passages  in  Shakespeare  in  which 
the  word  has  exactly  its  present  signification.  "  Sir 
Thurio,"  says  Valentine  to  Silvia,  in  The  Two  Gen^ 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  317 

tlemen  of  Verona  (11.4),  "borrows  his  wit  from 
your  ladyship's  looks,  and  spends  what  he  borrows, 
kindly,  in  our  company."  "  Sir,"  replies  Thurio, 
"  if  you  spend  word  for  word  with  me,  I  shall  make 
your  wit  bankrupt."  So  in  Much  Ado  About  Noth- 
ings i.  I  :  "  There  is  a  kind  of  merry  war,"  says 
Leonato,  speaking  of  his  niece  Beatrice,  "  betwixt 
Signior  Benedick  and  her  ;  they  never  meet  but  there 
is  a  skirmish  of  wit  between  them."  Or,  to  go  no 
farther,  how  would  Malone,  or  those  who  think  with 
him  (if  there  be  any),  explain  the  conversation  about 
Benedick's  wit  in  the  First  Scene  of  the  Fifth  Act  of 
the  last-mentioned  Play  without  taking  the  word  as 
there  used  in  the  sense  which  it  now  ordinarily  bears? 
In  the  passage  before  us,  to  be  sure,  its  meaning  is 
more  comprehensive,  corresponding  nearly  to  what 
it  still  conveys  in  the  expression  "  the  wit  of  man." 

We  have  the  same  natural  conjunction  of  terms  that 
we  have  here  in  Measure  for  Measure^  v.  i,  where 
the  Duke  addresses  the  discomfited  Angelo  :  — 

Hast  thou  or  word,  or  wit,  or  impudence, 
That  jet  can  do  thee  office  ? 

435.  And  bid  them  speak  for  me.  —  The  the?n 
here,  emphatic  and  yet  occupying  a  place  in  the 
verse  in  which  it  is  commonly  laid  down  that  only  a 
short  or  unaccented  syllable  can  properly  stand,  is 
in  precisely  the  same  predicament  with  the  him  of 
"  When  the  noble  Caesar  saw  hifn  stab,"  of  425. 
See  536. 

443.  To  every  several  Tuan,  —  Several  is  con- 
nected with  the  verb  sever^  which  is  from  the  Latin 
separo^  through  the  French  sevrer  (though  that  lan- 
guage has  also  separer^  as  we  too  have  separate), 
"  Every  several  man  "  is  every  man  by  himself  or  in 
his  individual  capacity.     "  These  properties  of  arts 


3i8  Philological  Commentary,    [act  hi. 

or  policy,  and  dissimulation  or  closeness,"  says  Ba- 
con, in  his  6th  Essay,  "  are,  indeed,  habits  and  fac- 
ulties several,  and  to  be  distinguished."  [See  also 
Numbers  xxviii.  13,  29 ;  2  Kings  xv.  5  ;  Matthew 
XXV.  15.     So  Milton  :  — 

Each  fettered  ghost  slips  to  his  several  grave. 

Hymn  on  Nativ.  234. 

Which  he,  to  grace  his  tributary  gods, 
By  course  commits  to  several  government. 

Comus,  24.] 

448.  He  hath  left  them  you.  —  The  emphasis  is 
Qt\  you, 

449.  And  with  the  brands  Jire  the  traitors^ 
houses.  —  This  is  the  reading  of  the  First  Folio  :  the 
Second  has  "  all  the  traitors'  houses,"  which  may  be 
right ;  for  the  prolongation  o^  Jire  into  a  dissyllable, 
though  it  will  give  us  the  requisite  number  of  sylla- 
bles (which  satisfies  both  Malone  and  Steevens), 
will  not  make  a  very  musical  verse.  Yet  the  harsh- 
ness and  dissonance  produced  by  the  irregular  fall 
of  the  accent,  in  addition  to  the  diaeresis,  in  the  case 
of  the  word  fire.,  may  be  thought  to  add  to  the  force 
and  expressiveness  of  the  line.  Mr.  Collier  omits 
the  "  all."     [So  Dyce,  Hudson,  and  White.] 

453.  Take  thou  what  course  thou  wilt  I  —  How 
now  ^fellow?  —  It  is  impossible  not  to  suspect  that 
Shakespeare  must  have  written  "  Take  now  what 
course  thou  wilt."  The  emphatic  pronoun,  or  even  a 
pronoun  at  all,  is  unaccountable  here.  The  abrupt- 
ness, or  unexpectedness,  of  the  appearance  of  the 
Servant  is  vividly  expressed  by  the  unusual  con- 
struction of  this  verse,  in  which  we  have  an  example 
of  the  extreme  license,  or  deviation  from  the  normal 
form,  consisting  in  the  reversal  of  the  regular  ac- 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  319 

centuation  in  the  last  foot.  Thus  we  have  in  Milton, 
Paradise  Lost^  x.  840,  — 

Beyond  all  past  example  and  future ; 
and  again,  xi.  683, — 

To  whom  thus  Michael :  These  are  the  product. 

At  \&2i^\.^  future^  which  is  common  in  his  verse,  has 
everywhere  else  the  accent  on  the  first  syllable. 
Product  is  found  nowhere  else  in  Milton,  and  no- 
where in  Shakespeare.  The  stage  directions  before 
and  after  this  speech  are  in  the  original  edition, 
'-'-Exit  Plebeians^''  and  '-''Enter  Servant.^'' 

457.  He  comes  upon  a  wish,  — Coincidently  with, 
as  it  were  upon  the  back  of,  my  wish  for  him.  See 
588. 

458.  /  heard  them  say.  —  In  all  the  old  copies  it 
is  "  I  heard  him  say ;  "  which  Jennens  explains 
thus:  ''''Him  evidently  refers  to  Octavius,  who,  as 
he  was  coming  into  Rome,  had  seen  Brutus  and 
Cassius  riding  like  madmen  through  the  gates,  and 
had  related  the  same  in  the  presence  of  the  servant." 
The  conjectural  emendation  oithejn^  however,  which 
appears  to  have  been  first  proposed  by  Capell,  had 
been  long  generally  received,  and  is  confirmed  by 
the  authority  of  Mr.  Collier's  manuscript  annotator. 
[White  calls  it  "  a  needless  change."  Dyce  and 
Hudson  also  read  "  him."] 

458.  Are  rid  like  madmen.  —  See  373. 

459.  Belike  they  had  some  notice  of  the  people.  — 
This  now  obsolete  word  belike  (probably)  is  com- 
monly held  to  be  a  compound  of  by  and  like.  But 
it  may  perhajDS  be  rather  the  ancient  gelice  (in  like' 
manner),  with  a  slight  change  of  meaning.  See 
389.  —  "  Some  notice  of  the  people  "  is  some  notice 
respecting  the  people. 


320  Philological  Commentary,    [act  hi. 

Scene  III.  —  460.  And  things  unlikely  charge 
my  fantasy.  —  \n?>\.Q2id.  oi  unlikely  the  old  text  has 
unluckily.  Unlikely^  which  appears  for  the  first 
time  in  Mr.  Collier's  one  volume  edition,  is  the 
restoration  of  his  MS.  annotator.  It  at  once,  and 
in  the  most  satisfactory  manner,  turns  nonsense  into 
sense.  [Dyce,  Hudson,  Staunton,  and  White  give 
"  unlucky,"  which  is  quite  as  satisfactory.] 

460.  I  have  no  will.,  etc.  —  Very  well  illustrated 
by  Steevens  in  a  quotation  from  The  Merchant  of 
Venice.,  ii.  5,  where  Shy  lock  says,  — 

I  have  no  mind  of  feasting  forth  to-night : 
But  I  will  go. 

The  only  stage  direction  here  in  the  original 
edition  is  before  ,this  speech ;  ^'' Enter  Cinna  the 
Poet.,  and  after  him  the  Plebeians." 

468.  Ay^  and  truly.,  you  were  best.  —  This  is 
strictly  equivalent  to  "  You  would  be  best,"  and 
might  perhaps  be  more  easily  resolved  than  the  more 
common  idiom,  "  You  had  best."  But  all  languages 
have  phraseologies  coming  under  the  same  head  with 
this,  which  are  not  to  be  explained  upon  strictly 
logical  principles.  Witness  the  various  applications 
of  the  Greek  s^sj,  the  French  il  y  a.,  etc.  In  the 
following  sentence  from  As  Tou  Like  It.,  i.  i,  we 
have  both  the  idioms  that  have  been  referred  to: 
"  I  had  as  lief  thou  didst  break  his  neck  as  his  finger, 
and  thou  wert  best  look  to  it."     [See  on  54.] 

469.  Wisely.,  I  say.,  I  am  a  bachelor.  —  Cinna's 
meaning  evidently  is,  Wisely  I  am  a  bachelor.  But 
that  is  not  conveyed  by  the  way  in  which  the  passage 
has  hitherto  been  always  pointed  —  "  Wisely  I  say." 

470.  Tou*  II  bear  me  a  bang  for  that.  —  You'll  get 
a  bang  for  that  (from  some  one).  The  me  goes  for 
nothing.     See  89  and  205. 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  321 

482.  Cin.  I  am  not^  etc.  —  This  speech  was  care- 
lessly omitted  in  the  generality  of  the  modern  texts, 
including  that  of  the  standard  edition  of  Malone  and 
Boswell,  till  restored  by  Mr.  Knight.  It  is  given, 
however,  in  Jennens's  collation  (1774),  and  he  does 
not  note  its  omission  by  any  preceding  editor. 

483.  Turn  him  going,  —  Turn  him  off ;  let  him 
go.  The  expression  occurs  also  in  As  Ton  Like  It, 
iii.  I  :  "  Do  this  expediently,  and  turn  him  going." 
So  in  Sir  Thomas  Urquhart's  translation  oi  Rabelais, 
B.  i.  ch.  35  :  "  Avoid  hence,  and  get  thee  going."  — 
This  story  of  Cinna  is  told  by  Plutarch  in  his  Life 
of  Caesar.  He  says,  the  people,  falling  upon  him  in 
their  rage,  slew  him  outright  in  the  market-place. 

The  stage  direction  with  which  the  Act  termi- 
nates in  the  original  edition  is,  ''''Exeunt  all  the  Ple- 
beians,^* 

ACT  rv. 

Scene  I.  The  same.  A  Room  in  Antony's 
House.  —  The  original  heading  is  only,  ''''Enter 
Antony,  Octavius,  and  Lepidus.^^  The  Same, 
meaning  at  Rome,  was  supplied  by  Rowe.  It  is 
evident  (especially  from  491  and  492)  that  the  scene 
is  placed  at  Rome,  although  in  point  of  fact  the 
triumvirs  held  their  meeting  on  a  small  island  in  the 
river  Rhenus  (now  the  Reno)  near  Bononia  (^Bo- 
logna), where,  Plutarch  says,  they  remained  three 
days  together. 

485.  These  many. — An  archaic  form  for  so  many, 
this  number. 

485.    Their  names  are  pricked.  —  See  35 1 . 

489.  Who  is  your  sister's  son,  Mark  Antony.  — 
This  is  a  mistake.  The  person  meant  is  Lucius 
21 


322  Philological  Commentary,    [act  iv. 

Caesar,  who  was  Mark  Antony's  uncle,  the  brother 
of  his  mother. 

490.  Look^  with  a  spot  I  damn  him.  —  Note  him 
as  condemned,  by  a  mark  or  stigma  (called  pricking 
his  name  in  485,  and  pricking  him  down  in  488,  and 
pricking  him  in  494). 

490.  Fetch  the  will  hither^  and  we  shall  de- 
tennine.  —  This  is  the  reading  of  all  the  old  copies, 
and  is  properly  retained  by  Mr.  Knight.  In  the 
Variorum  edition  we  have  (and  without  warning) 
will  substituted  for  shall. 

493.  This  is  a  slight  unmeritahle  man,  —  So 
afterwards  in  534,  "  Away,  slight  man ! "  said  by 
Brutus,  in  momentary  anger,  to  Cassius.  See  521.  — 
Unmeritable  should  mean  incapable  of  deserving. 

493.  Meet  to  be  sent  on  errands,  —  Errand  is  a 
Saxon  word,  cerend  (perhaps  from  cer^  or  ar^  before, 
whence  also  ere  and  early).  It  has  no  connection 
with  errant^  wandering  (from  the  Latin  erro^  whence 
also  err^  and  error.,  and  erroneous), 

495.  To  groan  and  sweat  under  the  business, — 
Business  is  commonly  only  a  dissyllable  with  Shake- 
speare ;  and  it  may  be  no  more  here  upon  the  prin- 
ciple explained  in  the  note  on  "  She  dreamt  to-night 
she  saw  my  statue  "  in  246.  There  are  a  good  many 
more  instances  of  lines  concluding  with  business.,  in 
which  either  it  is  a  trisyllable  (although  commonly 
only  a  dissyllable  in  the  middle  of  a  line)  or  the  verse 
must  be  regarded  as  a  hemistich,  or  truncated  verse, 
of  nine  syllables. 

495.  Either  led  or  driven.,  etc.  —  The  three  last 
Folios,  and  also  Rowe,  have  '•'•  frint  the  way."  The 
we  of  this  line,  and  the  our  and  the  we  of  the  next, 
are  all  emphatic.  There  is  the  common  irregularity 
of  a  single  short  superfluous  syllable  (the  er  oi  either). 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  323 

495.  And  graze  on  commons.  —  In  is  the  read- 
ing of  all  the  old  copies.  [So  Dyce,  Hudson,  and 
White.]  On  is  the  correction  of  Mr.  Collier's  MS. 
annotator. 

497.  Store  of  provender.  —  Provender.,  which 
Johnson  explains  to  mean  "  dry  food  for  brutes,"  and 
which  also  appears  in  the  forms  provand  and  pro- 
vant^  is  immediately  from  the  French  provende, 
having  the  same  signification,  and  derived  probably 
from  the  Latin  providere. 

497.  And.,  i7i  some  taste.  —  It  might  seem  at  first 
that  this  phrase,  as  it  may  be  said  to  be  equivalent 
in  effect  to  our  common  "  in  some  sense,"  so  is  only 
another  wording  of  the  same  conception  or  figure, 
what  is  called  a  sense  in  the  one  form  being  called  a 
taste  in  the  other.  But,  although  taste  is  reckoned 
one  of  the  senses,  this  would  certainly  be  a  wrong 
explanation.  The  expression  "  in  some  sense  "  has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  powers  of  sensation  or  per- 
ception ;  sense  here  is  signification,  meaning,  import. 
Neither  does  taste  stand  for  the  sense  of  taste  in  the 
other  expression.  The  taste  which  is  here  referred 
to  is  a  taste  in  contradistinction  to  a  more  full  enjoy- 
ment or  participation,  a  taste  merely.  "  In  some 
taste  "  is  another  way  of  saying,  not  "  in  some  sense," 
but  "  in  some  measure,  or  degree." 

497.  On  objects.,  arts.,  and  hnitations^  etc.  —  This 
passage,  as  it  stands  in  the  Folios,  with  the  sentence 
terminating  at  "  imitations,"  has  much  perplexed  the 
commentators ;  and,  indeed,  may  be  said  to  have 
proved  quite  inexplicable,  till  a  comma  was  substi- 
tuted for  the  full  point  by  Mr.  Knight,  which  slight 
change  makes  everything  plain  and  easy.  Antony's 
assertion  is,  that  Lepidus  feeds,  not  on  objects,  arts, 
and   imitations  generally,  but  on  such  of  them   as 


324  Philological  Commentary,    [act  iv. 

are  out  of  use  and  staled  (or  worn  out :  see  50) 
by  other  people,  which,  notwithstanding,  begin  his 
fashion  (or  with  which  his  following  the  fashion 
begins.)  [Theobald  proposed  "  On  abject  orts  and 
imitations,"  which  Dyce  adopts  and  defends  in  a  long 
note.  White,  in  Shakes  fear  e^  s  Scholar^  suggests 
"  abject  arts  and  imitations,"  but  in  his  edition  of  the 
poet,  wisely  returns  to  the  reading  of  the  Folio  as 
amended  by  Knight.  Staunton  has  "  abjects,  orts, 
and  imitations,"  and  defines  abjects  as  "  things  thrown 
away  as  worthless."  The  word  occurs  with  that 
meaning  in  old  English  (see  Bible  Word-Book^  s.  v.), 
but  much  more  commonly  it  means  a  worthless, 
despicable  person  —  the  only  sense  recognized  by 
Nares  —  as  in  Richard  III.  i.  i:  "We  are  the 
queen's  abjects,  and  must  obey."  Compare  Psalms 
XXXV.  15.] 

497.  Listen  great  things.  —  Listen  has  now 
ceased  to  be  used  as  an  active  verb. 

497.  \_Are  levying  powers.  —  Power  and  powers^ 
in  the  »5ense  of  army,  forces,  are  very  common  in  old 
writers :  — 

So  soon  as  we  had  gathered  us  a  power 
We  dallied  not.     Heywood,  2  Ed.  IV.  ii.  2. 

Lord  Lovel  was  at  hand  with  a  great  power  of  men.  — 

Bacon,  Hen.  VII.  p.  17. 

See  also  2  Chron.  xxxii.  9.  For  examples  in  Shake- 
speare see  Mrs.  Clarke.  In  the  present  play,  com- 
pare 597,  dd^.,  and  727.  Puissance  is  used  in  the 
same  sense  in  old  English.  See  an  example  in  note 
on  303.] 

497.  Our  best  friends  made^  and  our  best  means 
stretched  out.  —  This  is  the  reading  of  the  Second 
Folio.  It  seems  to  me,  I  confess,  to  be  sufficiently 
in    Shakespeare's   manner.      The   First   Folio   has 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  325 

"  Our  best  Friends  made,  our  meanes  stretcht,"  — 
which,  at  any  rate,  it  is  quite  impossible  to  believe  to 
be  what  he  wrote.  [Dyce  and  White  follow  the  First 
Folio,  but  both  consider  the  line  a  mutilated  one.] 

497.  And  let  us  presently  go  sit  in  counsel^  etc.  — 
The  more  ordinary  phraseology  would  be  "  Let  us 
sit  in  consultation  how,"  or  "  Let  us  consult  how." 
The  word  in  the  First  Folio  is  "  Councell,"  and 
most,  if  not  all,  modern  editions  have  "  sit  in  coun- 
cil."    But  see  262. 

498.  And  bayed  about  with  many  enemies,  —  See 
348  (for  bayed) ^  and  362  (for  with). 

498.  Millions  0/  mischiefs.  —  This  is  the  reading 
of  all  the  old  editions.  Mr.  Knight  has  "  mischief," 
no  doubt  by  an  error  of  the  press.  In  the  Winter's 
Tale.,  iv.  2,  however,  we  have,  in  a  speech  of  the 
Clown,  "  A  million  of  beating  may  come  to  a  great 
matter." 

Scene  II.  The  original  heading  here  is  ^''Drum. 
Enter  Brutus.,  Lucillius.,  and  the  Army.  Titinius 
and  Pindarus  7neete  them.''  The  modern  editors 
after  the  name  of  Lucilius  introduce  that  of  Lucius, 
See  the  note  on  520. 

501.  What  now.,  Lucilius?  is  Cassius  near?  — 
Here  the  ius  is  dissyllabic  in  Lucilius  and  monosyl- 
labic in  Cassius. 

502.  To  do  you  salutation.  —  Another  of  the  old 
applications  of  do  which  we  have  now  lost.  See  147. 
The  stage  direction  about  the  Letter  is  modern. 

503.  He  greets  ?ne  well. — The  meaning  seems 
to  be.  He  salutes  me  in  a  friendly  manner.  Yet 
this  can  hardly  be  regarded  as  a  legitimate  employ- 
ment of  well. 

503.  In  his  own   change^   etc.  —  The   meaning 


326  Philological  Commentary,    [act  iv. 

seems  to  be,  either  through  a  change  that  has  taken 
place  in  his  own  feelings  and  conduct,  or  through 
the  misconduct  of  his  officers. 

503.  Some  worthy  cause.  —  Some  reasonable  or 
sufficient  cause,  some  cause  of  worth,  value,  or 
power  to  justify  the  wish.  Our  modern  worth  is 
the  Saxon  weorth^  wurth^  or  wyrth^  connected  with 
which  are  weorscipe^  worship,  and  weorthian^  to 
hold  in  esteem  or  honor.  But  there  may  also  per- 
haps be  a  connection  with  weorthan.,  or  wurthan^ 
to  become,  or  to  be,  the  same  word  with  the  modern 
German  werden^  and  still  in  a  single  fragment  re- 
maining in  use  among  ourselves  in  the  phrase  woe 
worthy  that  is,  woe  be.  [See  Ezekiel  xxx.  2.]  If 
this  be  so,  either  what  we  call  worth  is  that  which 
anything  emphatically  is^  or,  when  we  say  that  a 
thing  25,  we  are  only  saying  that  it  is  worth  in  a 
broad  or  vague  sense,  according  to  a  common  man- 
ner of  forming  a  term  of  general  out  of  one  of  par- 
ticular import. 

505.  He  is  not  doubted.  —  A  word.,  etc.  —  Brutus 
here,  it  will  be  observed,  makes  two  speeches ;  first 
he  addresses  himself  to  Pindarus,  then  to  Lucilius. 
Even  if  the  prosody  did  not  admonish  us  to  the  same 
effect,  it  would,  in  these  circumstances,  be  better  to 
print  the  passage  as  I  have  given  it,  with  two  hemi- 
stichs  or  broken  lines. 

505.  Let  7ne  be  resolved.  —  See  338. 

506.  But  not  with  such  familiar  instances. — 
The  word  still  in  use  that  most  nearly  expresses  this 
obsolete  sense  of  instances  is,  perhaps,  assiduities. 
As  instance  should  mean  standing  upon,  so  assiduity 
should  mean  sitting  upon.  Assiduitas  is  used  by 
Cicero ;  instantia^  I  believe,  is  not  found  in  the  best 
age  of  the  Latin  tongue.     The  English  word  is  em- 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C^sar.  327 

ployed  by  Shakespeare  in  other  senses  besides  this 
that  are  now  obsolete.  "  To  comfort  you  the  more," 
says  the  Earl  of  Warwick  to  the  King,  in  2  Henry 

IV.  in.  I,— 

I  have  received 
A  certain  instance  that  Glendower  is  dead,  — 

that  is,  a  certain  assurance.  Again,  in  Richard 
III.  iii.  2,  — 

Tell  him  his  fears  are  shallow,  without  instance^  — 

that  is,  apparently,  without  any  fact  to  support  or 
justify  them.     Again,  in  Hamlet^  iii.  2,  we  have  — 

The  instances  that  second  marriage  move 

Are  base  respects  of  thrift,  but  none  of  love,  — 

that  is,  the  inducements,  as  we  should  now  say,  are 
base  considerations  of  thrift,  or  pecuniary  advantage. 
We  now  use  instance  in  something  like  its  proper 
sense  only  in  the  phrase  "  at  the  instance  of,"  and' 
even  there  the  notion  of  pressure  or  urgency  is  nearly 
lost ;  the  word  is  understood  as  meaning  little,  if 
anything,  more  than  merely  so  much  of  application, 
request,  or  suggestion  as  the  mere  mention  of  what 
is  wanted  might  carry  with  it.  In  another  phrase 
in  which  it  has  come  to  be  used,  "  in  the  first  in- 
stance," it  is  not  very  obvious  what  its  meaning  really 
is,  or  how,  at  least,  it  has  got  the  meaning  which  it 
appears  to  have.  Do  we,  or  can  we,  say  "  in  the 
second,  or  third,  instance"?  By  instance^  as  com- 
monly used,  for  a  particular  fact,  we  ought  to  under- 
stand a  fact  bearing  upon  the  matter  in  hand ;  and 
this  seems  to  be  still  always  kept  in  mind  in  the 
familiar  expression  "  for  instance." 

Shakespeare's  use  of  the  word  may  be  further 
ilhistrated  by  the  following  passages;  "They  will 
scarcely  believe  this  without  trial :    offer  tliem  in- 


328  Philological  Commentary,    [act  iv. 

stances ;  which  shall  bear  no  less  likelihood  than  to 
see  me  at  her  chamber  window  ;  hear  me  call  Mar- 
garet, Hero  ;  hear  Margaret  term  me  Claudio  ; "  etc. 
{Much  Ado  About  Nothings  ii.  2)  ;  — 

Instance !  O  instance !  strong  as  Pluto's  gates ; 
Cressid  is  mine,  tied  with  the  bonds  of  heaven  : 
Instance !  O  iastance !  strong  as  heaven  itself; 
The  bonds  of  heaven  are  slipped,  dissolved,  and  loosed. 

Troil.  and  Cress,  v.  2. 

507.  Like  horses  hot  at  hand.  —  That  is,  appar- 
ently, when  held  by  the  hand,  or  led.  [Compare 
Henry  VIII. ^  v.  3  (v.  3  in  Globe  Ed.)  :  — 

those  that  tame  wild  horses 

Pace  'em  not  in  their  hands  to  make  'em  gentle, 

But  stop  their  mouths  with  stubborn  bits,  and  spur  'em, 

Till  they  obey  the  manage.] 

Or  rather,  perhaps,  when  acted  upon  only  "by  the 
rein.  So  in  Harington's  Ariosto^  vii.  67,  Melyssa 
says  that  she  will  try  to  make  Rogero's  griffith  horse 
"  gentle  to  the  spur  and  hand."  But  has  not  "  at 
hand "  always  meant,  as  it  always  does  now,  only 
near  or  hard  by  ?  That  meaning  will  not  do  here. 
The  commentators  afford  us, no  light  or  help.  Per- 
haps Shakespeare  wrote  "  in  hand."  The  two 
expressions  i7z  hand  and  at  hand  are  commonly 
distinguished  in  the  Plays  as  they  are  in  our  present 
usage  ;  and  we  also  have  on  hand  and  at  the  hands 
of  in  the  modern  senses,  as  well  as  to  bear  in  hand 
("to  keep  in  expectation,  to  amuse  with  false  pre- 
tences "  —  Nares)  and  at  any  hand  (that  is,  in  any 
case),  which  are  now  obsolete.  In  The  Comedy  of 
Errors^  ii.  i,  at  hand.,  used  by  his  mistress  Adriana 
in  the  common  sense,  furnishes  matter  for  the  word- 
catching  wit  of  Dromio  of  Ephesus  after  he  has  been 
beaten,   as  he  thinks,  by  his  master:     ^^Adr,  Say, 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C-^sar.  329 

is  your  tardy  master  now  at  hand  ?  Dro.  JB,  Nay, 
he's  at  two  hands  with  me,  and  that  my  two  ears  can 
witness."  In  King  yohn^  v.  2,  however,  we  have 
"  like  a  lion  fostered  up  at  hand,"  that  is,  as  we 
should  now  say,  by  hand.  In  another  similar 
phrase,  we  may  remark,  at  has  now  taken  the  place 
of  the  in  or  into  of  a  former  age.  We  now  say  To 
march  at  the  head  of,  and  also  To  place  at  the  head 
of,  and  we  use  in  the  head  and  into  the  head  in 
quite  other  senses ;  but  here  is  the  way  in  which 
Clarendon  expresses  himself:  "They  said  .  .  .  that 
there  should  be  an  army  of  thirty  thousand  men  im- 
mediately transported  into  England  with  the  Prince 
of  Wales  in  the  head  of  them  "  {Hist.^  Book  x.)  ; 
"  The  King  was  only  expected  to  be  nearer  England, 
how  disguised  soever,  that  he  might  quickly  put 
himself  into  the  head  of  the  army,  that  would  be 
ready  to  receive  him  "  (/</.,  Book  xiv.)  ;  "  These 
cashiered  officers  .  .  .  found  so  much  encourage- 
ment, that,  at  a  time  appointed,  they  put  themselves 
into  the  heads  of  their  regiments,  and  marched  with 
them  into  the  field  "  {Id.,  Book  xvi.)  ;  "  That  Lord 
[Fairfax]  had  called  together  some  of  his  old  dis- 
banded officers  and  soldiers,  and  many  principal 
men  of  the  country,  and  marched  in  the  head  of 
them  into  York  "  {Ibid.)  ;  "  Upon  that  very  day 
they  [the  Parliament]  received  a  petition,  which 
they  had  fomented,  presented  ...  by  a  man  noto- 
rious in  those  times,  .  .  .  Praise- God  Barebone, 
in  the  head  of  a  crowd  of  sectaries  "  {Ibid.)  ;  "  He 
[the  Chancellor]  informed  him  [Admiral  Montague] 
of  Sir  George  Booth's  being  possessed  of  Chester, 
and  in  tlie  head  of  an  army  "  {Ibid.). 

507.   They  fall  their  crests.  —  This  use  ofj^//, 
as  an  active  verb,  is  not  common  in  Shakespeare ; 


330  Philological  Commentary,    [act  iv. 

but  it  may  be  found  in  writers  of  considerably  later 
date. 

508.  Instead  of  the  stage  direction  ''''March  ivith- 
in  "  at  the  end  of  this  speech,  the  original  text  has 
''''Low  MarcJi  within  "  in  the  middle  of  507.  And 
instead  of  '-''Enter  Cassius  and  Soldiers^'  it  is  there 
''''Enter  Cassius  and  his  powers ^ 

512,  513,  514.  —  The  Within  prefixed  to  these 
three  speeches  is  the  insertion  of  the  modern  editors. 
In  the  First  Folio  the  three  repetitions  of  the  "  Stand" 
are  on  so  many  distinct  lines,  but  all  as  if  they  formed 
part  of  the  speech  of  Brutus.  Mr.  Collier  has  at 
514  the  stage  direction,  '''' One  after  the  other^  and 
fainter y 

518.  Cassius^  be  content.  —  That  is,  be  continent ; 
contain,  or  restrain,  yourself.  [The  phrase  occurs 
also  in  the  Bible  {^Judges  xix.  6;  2  Kings  v.  23, 
vi.  3  ;  Job  vi.  28)  ;  but  the  meaning  there  is  "  be 
pleased  "  or  "  let  it  please  thee,"  as  the  Hebrew  is 
translated  in  2  Sam,  vii.  29.  See  Bible  Word- 
Book^  s.  V.J 

518.  Speak  your  griefs  softly. —  See   129  and 

435- 

518.  Nothing  but  love  from  us.  —  From  each  of 
us  to  the  other. 

518.  Enlarge  your  griefs.  —  State  them  with  all 
fulness  of  eloquent  exposition ;  as  we  still  say  En- 
large  upon.  See  129  and  435.  Clarendon  uses  the 
verb  to  ejilarge  differently  both  from  Shakespeare 
and  from  the  modern  language ;  thus :  '*  As  soon 
as  his  lordship  had  finished  his  oration,  which  was 
received  with  marvellous  acclamations,  Mr.  Pym 
enlarged  himself,  in  a  speech  then  printed,  upon  the 
several  parts  of  the  King's  answer"  {Hist.^  Book 
vi.). 


sc.  II.]  Julius  C-^sar.  331 

520.  Lucius^  do  you  the  like;  etc.  —  The  original 

text  is,  — 

Lucillius,  do  you  the  like,  and  let  no  man 

Come  to  our  tent,  till  we  have  done  our  Conference. 

Let  Lucius  and  Titinius  guard  our  doore. 

To  cure  the  prosody  in  the  first  line,  Steevens  and 
other  modern  editors  strike  out  the  you.  It  is 
strange  that  no  one  should  have  been  struck  with 
the  absurdity  of  such  an  association  as  Lucius  and 
Titinius  for  the  guarding  of  the  door  —  an  officer 
of  rank  and  a  servant  boy  —  the  boy,  too,  being 
named  first.  The  function  of  Lucius  was  to  carry 
messages.  As  Cassius  sends  his  servant  Pindarus 
with  a  message  to  his  division  of  the  force,  Brutus 
sends  his  servant  Lucius  with  a  similar  message  to 
his  division.  Nothing  can  be  clearer  than  that  Lu- 
cilius  in  the  first  line  is  a  misprint  for  Lucius^  and 
Lucius  in  the  third  a  misprint  for  Lucilius.  Or 
the  error  may  have  been  in  the  copy  ;  and  the  inser- 
tion of  the  Let  was  probably  an  attempt  of  the 
printer,  or  editor,  to  save  the  prosody  of  that  line, 
as  the  omission  of  the  you  is  of  the  modern  editors 
to  save  that  of  the  other.  The  present  restoration 
sets  everything  to  rights.  [White  adopts  Craik's 
emendation,  but  Collier  and  Dyce  take  no  notice  of 
it.]  At  the  close  of  the  conference  we  have  Brutus, 
in  579,  again  addressing  himself  to  Lucilius  and 
Titinius,  who  had  evidently  kept  together  all  the 
time  it  lasted.  Lucius  (who  in  the  original  text  is 
commonly  called  the  Boy)  and  Titinius  are  nowhere 
mentioned  together.  In  the  heading  of  Scene  III., 
indeed,  the  modern  editors  have  again  ''''Lucius  and 
Titinius  at  some  distance ; "  but  this  is  their  own 
manufacture.  All  that  we  have  in  the  old  copies  is, 
^^Manet  Brutus  and  Cassius"     See  also  570. 


332  Philological  Commentary,    [act  iv. 

Scene  III.  [Plutarch  in  his  Life  of  Marcus 
Brutus  (North's  translation,  1579,  p.  1071),  says,- 
"  Therefore,  before  they  fell  in  hand  with  any  other 
matter,  they  went  into  a  little  chamber  together,  and 
bad  every  man  avoyde,  and  did  shut  the  dores  to 
them.  Then  they  beganne  to  powre  out  their  com- 
plaints, one  to  the  other,  and  grew  hot  and  lowde, 
earnestly  accusing  one  another,  and  at  length  fell 
both  a  weeping.  Their  friends,  that  were  without 
the  chamber,  hearing  them  lowd  within  and  angry 
betwene  them  selves,  they  were  both  amased,  and 
affrayd  also,  lest  it  would  grow  to  further  matter."] 

521.  [^Tou  have  condemned  and  noted.  —  Com- 
pare North's  Plutarch:  "The  next  day  after, 
Brutus,  upon  complaint  of  the  Sardians,  did  con- 
demn and  note  Lucius  Pella  for  a  defamed  person," 
etc.] 

521.  Wherein  Tny  letters  .  .  .  were  slighted  off, 
—  The  printer  of  the  First  Folio,  evidently  mis- 
understanding the  passage,  gives  us,  — 

Wherein  my  Letters,  praying  on  his  side, 
Because  I  knew  the  man  was  slighted  off. 

The  Second  Folio  has,  — 

Wherein  my  Letter,  praying  on  his  side, 
Because  I  knew  the  man,  was  slighted  oflf. 

[White  adopts  this  reading.]  At  a  date  consider- 
ably later  than  Shakespeare  we  have  still  slighted 
over  (for  to  treat  or  perform  carelessly).  It  is  used 
by  Dryden  in  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century,  as 
it  had  been  by  Bacon  in  the  beginning.  The  con- 
nection of  the  various  modifications  of  the  term 
slight  is  sufficiently  obvious.  They  all  involve  the 
notion  of  quickly  and  easily  escaping  or  being  de- 
spatched and  got  rid  of. 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  333 

523.  That  every  nice  offence^  etc.  —  Nice  is  the 
Saxon  nesc  or  hnesc^  tender,  soft,  gentle.  [For  a 
different  etymology  see  the  revised  Webster.  For 
nice  in  the  sense  of  "  trivial,"  compare  "  How  nice 
the  quarrel  vs'^as,"  Romeo  and  yuliet^  iii.  i,  and 
"  The  letter  vs^as  not  nice,"  same  Play,  v.  2.  Mrs. 
Clarke  will  furnish  other  examples.]  In  modern 
English  the  word  always  implies  smallness  or  petti- 
ness, though  not  always  in  a  disparaging  sense,  but 
rather  most  usually  in  the  contrary.  So  a  pet^ 
literally  something  small,  is  the  common  name  for 
anything  that  is  loved  and  cherished.  —  For  '''-his 
comment"  see  54. 

524.  Let  me  tell  you,  Cassius,  etc.  —  Here  we 
have  a  line  with  the  first  syllable  wanting,  which 
may  be  regarded  as  the  converse  of  those  wanting 
only  the  last  syllable  noticed  in  the  note  on  246. 
So,  lower  down,  in  540,  we  have  another  speech  of 
Brutus  commencing,  with  like  abruptness,  with  a 
line  which  wants  the  two  first  syllables:  "You  say 
you  are  a  better  soldier."  —  For  the  true  nature  of 
the  hemistich  see  the  note  on  "  Made  in  her  concave 
shores"  in  15. 

524.  Are  much  condemned  to  have  an  itching 
palm.  —  To  condemn  to  is  now  used  only  in  the 
sense  of  sentencing  to  the  endurance  of.  In  the 
present  passage  the  to  introduces  the  cause,  not  the 
consequence,  of  the  condemnation.  "  You  are  con- 
demned" is  used  as  a  stronger  expression  for  you 
are  said,  you  are  alleged,  you  are  charged.  An 
itching  palm  is  a  covetous  palm  ;  as  we  say  an  itch 
for  praise,  an  itch  for  scribbling,  etc.,  or  as  in  the 
translation  of  the  Bible  we  read,  in  2  Tim.  iv.  3,  of 
the  people  "  having  itching  ears "  (being  exactly 
after  the  original,  xvifjdo/xsvoi  rr^v  axo^jv). 


334  Philological  Commentary,    [act  iv. 

524.  To  sell  and  mart  your  offices,  —  To  make 
merchandise,  or  matter  of  bargain  and  sale,  of  your 
appointments  and  commissions.  Mart  is  held  to  be 
a  contraction  of  market^  which  is  connected  with  the 
Latin  tnerx  and  mercor,^  and  so  with  merchant-^ 
mercantile,  commerce,  etc. 

524.  To  undeservers.  —  We  have  lost  both  this 
substantive  and  the  verb  to  disserve  (to  do  an  injury 
to),  which  Clarendon  uses;  though  we  still  retain 
the  adjective  undeserving. 

528,  529.  And  hay  the  moon.  .  .  .  Brutus,  bay 
not  me.  —  In  the  First  Folio  we  have  "  bay  the 
moon,"  and  "  bait  not  me  ; "  in  all  the  others,  "  bait 
the  moon "  and  "  bait  not  me."  Theobald  sug- 
gested '-''bay  the  moon"  and  ''''hay  not  me;"  and 
this  accords  with  the  reading  given  by  Mr.  Collier's 
MS.  annotator,  who  in  528  restores  in  the  Second 
Folio  the  hay  of  the  First,  and  in  529  corrects  the 
bait  of  all  the  Folios  into  bay.  [Dyce  and  White 
follow  Theobald,  but  Hudson  prefers  the  reading  of 
the  First  Folio.]  To  bay  the  moon  is  to  bark  at  the 
moon  ;  and  bay  not  me  would,  of  course,  be  equiva- 
lent to  bark  not,  like  an  infuriated  dog,  at  me.  See 
348.  To  bait,  again,  from  the  French  battre,  might 
be  understood  to  mean  to  attack  with  violence.  So 
in  Macbeth,  v.  7,  we  have  "  to  be  baited  with  the 
rabble's  curse."  It  is  possible  that  there  may  have 
been  some  degree  of  confusion  in  the  minds  of  our 
ancestors  between  bait  and  hay,  and  that  both  words, 
imperfectly  conceived  in  their  import  and  origin, 
were  apt  to  call  up  a  more  or  less  distinct  notion  of 
encompassing  or  closing  in.  Perhaps  something  of 
this  is  what  runs  in  Cassius's  head  when  he  subjoins, 
"  You  forget  yourself.  To  hedge  me  in  "  —  although 
Johnson  interprets  these  words  as  meaning  "  to  limit 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  335 

my  authority  by  your  direction  or  censure."  The 
present  passage  may  be  compared  with  one  in  A 
Winter's  Tale^  ii.  3  :  — 

Who  late  hath  beat  her  husband, 
And  now  baits  me. 

A  third  Anglicized  form  of  battre^  in  addition  to 
beat  and  bait^  is  probably  bate^  explained  by  Nares 
as  "  a  term  in  falconry  ;  to  flutter  the  wings  as  pre- 
paring for  flight,  particularly  at  the  sight  of  prey." 
ThusPetruchio,  in  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew^  iv.  i, 
speaking  of  his  wife,  after  observing  that  his  "  falcon 
now  is  sharp,  and  passing  empty"  (that  is,  very 
empty,  or  hungry),  goes  on  to  say  that  he  has 
another  way  to  man  his  haggard  (that  is,  apparently, 
to  reduce  his  wild  hawk  under  subjection  to  man)  :  — 

That  is,  to  watch  her,  as  we  watch  those  kites 
That  bate,  and  beat,  and  will  not  be  obedient. 

Nares  quotes  the  following  passage  from  a  letter  of 
Bacon's  as  beautifully  exemplifying  the  true  meaning 
of  the  word  :  "  Wherein  \yiz.  in  matters  of  business] 
I  would  to  God  that  I  were  hooded,  that  I  saw  less ; 
or  that  I  could  perform  more :  for  now  I  am  like  a 
hawk  that  bates^  when  I  see  occasion  of  service  ;  but 
cannot  fly,  because  I  am  tied  to  another's  fist."  The 
letter,  which  was  first  printed  by  Rawley  in  the  First 
Part  of  the  Resuscitatio  (1657),  ^^  without  date,  and 
is  merely  entitled  "A  Letter  to  Queen  Elizabeth, 
upon  the  sending  of  a  New- Year's  Gift." 

529.  /  am  a  soldier^  /.  —  It  is  impossible  to  be 
quite  certain  whether  the  second  /  here  be  the  pro- 
noun or  the  adverb  which  we  now  write  Ay,  See 
the  note  on  "  I,  as  yEneas,"  in  54. 

529.  To  make  conditions.  —  To  arrange  the  terms 
on  which  offices  should  be  conferred. 


33^  Philological  Commentary,    [act  iv. 

530.  Go  to.  — Johnson,  in  his  Dictionary,  ex- 
plains this  expression  as  equivalent  to  "  Come,  come, 
take  the  right  course  "  (meaning,  contemptuously  or 
sarcastically).  He  adds,  that,  besides  being  thus 
used  as  "  a  scornful  exhortation,"  it  is  also  some- 
times "  a  phrase  of  exhortation  or  encouragement ;  " 
as  in  Gen.  xi.  4,  where  the  people,  after  the  flood, 
are  represented  as  saying,  "  Go  to,  let  us  build  us  a 
city  and  a  tower,"  etc.  But  it  must  be  understood 
to  be  used,  again,  in  the  scornful  sense  three  verses 
lower  down,  where  the  Lord  is  made  to  say,  "  Go 
to,  let  us  go  down,  and  there  confound  their  lan- 
guage," etc. 

533.  Have  mind  upon  your  health.  —  Mind  is 
here  remembrance,  and  health  is  welfare,  or  safety, 
generally  ;  senses  which  are  both  now  obsolete. 

534.  Away^  slight  inan  I  —  See  493  and  521. 
536.  Hear  me^for  I  will  speak.  —  The  emphasis 

is  not  to  be  denied  to  the  will  here,  although  it 
stands  in  the  place  commonly  stated  to  require  an 
unaccented  syllable.     See  425,  435,  and  612. 

538.  Must  I  observe  you  ?  —  Pay  you  observance, 
or  reverential  attention.  [Compare  2  Henry  IV. 
iv.  2 :  "  For  he  is  gracious,  if  he  be  observed,"  and 
"  I  shall  observe  him  with  all  care  and  love."  The 
word  is  used  in  the  same  sense  in  Mark  vi.  20.] 

540.   Tou  say  you  are  a  better  soldier.  —  See  524. 

540.  I  shall  be  glad  to  learn  of  abler  men.  —  The 
old  reading  is  "  noble  men  ; "  abler  is  the  correction 
of  Mr.  Collier's  MS.  annotator.  Even  if  this  were  a 
mere  conjecture,  its  claim  to  be  accepted  would  be 
nearly  irresistible.  Noble  here  is  altogether  inap- 
propriate. [Dyce,  Hudson,  Staunton,  and  White 
retain  "noble,"  which  is  by  no  means  so  bad  as 
Craik  makes  it.]     Cassius,  as  Mr.  Collier  remarks, 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  337 

had  said  nothing  about  "  noble  men,"  whereas  abler 
is  the  very  expression  that  he  had  used  (in  529)  :  — 

I  am  a  soldier,  I, 
Older  in  practice,  abler  than  yourself 
To  make  conditions. 

550*  ^ou  have  done  that  you  should  be  sorry 
for.  —  The  emphasis,  of  course,  is  on  should.  The 
common  meaning  of  shall^  as  used  by  Cassius,  is 
turned,  in  Brutus's  quick  and  unsparing  replication, 
into  the  secondary  meaning  oi should  (ought  to  be). 
See  181. 

550.  Which  I  respect  not. — Which  I  heed  not. 
Here  respect  has  rather  less  force  of  meaning  than  it 
has  now  acquired  ;  whereas  observe  in  538  has  more 
than  it  now  conveys.  Respect  in  Shakespeare  means 
commonly  no  more  than  what  we  now  call  regard 
or  view.  Thus,  in  The  Midsummer  Nighfs  Dream, 
i.  I,  Lysander  says  of  his  aunt,  "  She  respects  me  as 
her  only  son;"  and,  in  ii.  i,  Helena  says  to  De- 
metrius, "  You,  in  my  respect,  are  all  the  world." 
So,  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  v.  i,  when  Portia, 
on  hearing  the  music  from  the  lighted  house  as  she 
approaches  Belmont  at  night  in  company  with  Ne- 
rissa,  says,  — 

Nothing  is  good,  I  see,  without  respect; 
Methinks  it  sounds  much  sweeter  than  by  day,  — 

she  means  merely  that  nothing  is  good  without  ref- 
erence to  circumstances,  or  that  it  is  only  when  it  is 
in  accordance  with  the  place  and  the  time  that  any 
good  thing  can  be  really  or  fully  enjoyed.  As  she 
immediately  subjoins,  — 

How  many  things  by  season  seasoned  are 
To  their  right  praise  and  true  perfection  I 

So   afterwards  Nerissa  to  Gratiano :    "  You  should 
22 


338  Philological  Commentary,     [act  iv. 

have  been  respective^  and  have  kept  it "  (the  ring)  — 
that  is,  you  should  have  been  mindful  (of  your 
promise  or  oath). 

550.  And  drop  my  blood,  —  Expend  my  blood  in 
drops. 

550.  Than  to  wring.  —  Although  had  rather 
(see  54  and  ^^^^  being  regarded  as  of  the  nature  of 
an  auxiliary  verb,  does  not  in  modern  English  take 
a  to  with  the  verb  that  follows  it  (see  i),  it  does  so 
here  in  virtue  of  being  equivalent  in  sense  to  would 
or  should  prefer. 

550.  By  any  indirection.  —  Indirectness,  as  we 
should  now  say. 

550.  To  lock  such  rascal  counters.  —  As  to  lock. 
See  407.  Rascal  means  despicable.  It  is  a  Saxon 
word,  properly  signifying  a  lean,  worthless  deer. 

550.  Be  ready ^  gods^  etc.  —  I  cannot  think  that 
Mr.  Collier  has  improved  this  passage  by  removing 
the  comma  which  we  find  in  the  old  copies  at  the 
end  of  the  first  line,  and  so  connecting  the  words 
*'  with  all  your  thunderbolts,"  not  with  "  Be  ready," 
but  with  "  Dash  him  to  pieces."  [On  the  whole, 
Collier's  reading,  which  is  adopted  by  White,  seems 
the  preferable  one.] 

550.  Dash  him  to  pieces.  —  This  is  probably  to  be 
understood  as  the  infinitive  (governed  by  the  pre- 
ceding verb ^6  ready)  with  the  customary  to  omitted. 
See  I. 

553»  Brutus  hath  rived  my  heart.  —  See  107. 

558.  A  flatterer's  would  not^  though  they  do 
appear.  —  This  is  the  reading  of  all  the  old  copies. 
Mr.  Collier's  MS.  annotator  gives  "  did  appear." 
[But  Collier  does  not  adopt  the  emendation.] 

559.  Revenge  yourselves  alone  on  Cassius.  —  In 
this  line  and  the  next  we  have  Cassius  used  first  as 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  339 

a  trisyllable  and  immediately  after  as  a  dissyllable. 
[Compare  501.] 

559'  Por  Cassius  is  aweary  of  the  world. — 
Whatever  may  be  its  origin  or  proper  meaning, 
many  words  were  in  the  habit  of  occasionally  taking 
«  as  a  prefix  in  the  earliest  period  of  the  language. 
Thence  we  have  our  modern  English  arise.,  arouse., 
abide^  await.,  awake.;  aweary.,  etc.  Some  of  the 
words  which  are  thus  lengthened,  however,  do  not 
appear  to  have  existed  in  the  Saxon ;  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  many  ancient  forms  of  this  kind  are  now 
lost.  More  or  less  of  additional  expressiveness  seems 
usually  to  be  given  by  this  prefix,  in  the  case  at 
least  of  such  words  as  can  be  said  to  have  in  them 
anything  of  an  emotional  character.  Shakespeare 
has  used  the  present  word  in  another  of  his  most 
pathetic  lines  —  Macbeth's  "I  'gin  to  be  aweary  of 
the  sun."  The  a  here  is  the  same  element  that  we 
have  in  the  "  Tom's  a-cold''  of  Lear.,  iii.  4,  and  iv. 
I,  and  also  with  the  an  that  we  have  in  the  "  When 
I  was  an^hungered''  of  the  New  Testament,  and 
Shakespeare's  "  They  said  they  were  an-hungry " 
{Co7'iol.  i.  4).     [See  65.] 

559.  [  Checked  like  a  bondman.  —  Compare  2 
Henry  IV.  i.  2 :  "I  have  checked  him  for  it,  and 
the  young  lion  repents."  So  in  Udall's  Erasmus^ 
Mark  XV.  32  :  "  And  they  that  were  crucified  with 
hym,  checked  hym  also."  Check  is  used  in  this 
sense  of  rebuke,  reprove,  in  the  heading  of  chap.  v. 
of  Exodus.'\ 

559.  Conned  by  rote.  —  The  Saxon  connan.,  or 
cunnan.,  signifying  to  know,  and  also  to  be  able,  — 
its  probable  modification  cunnian.,  to  inquire,  —  and 
cennan.,  to  beget  or  bring  forth,  appear  to  have  all 
come  to  be  confounded  in  the  breaking  up  of  the  old 


340  Philological  Commentary,     [act  iv. 

form  of  the  language,  and  then  to  have  given  rise  to 
our  modern  ken^  and  can^  and  con^  and  cunnings 
with  meanings  not  at  all  corresponding  to  those  of 
the  terms  with  which  they  severally  stand  in  phonetic 
connection.  Can  is  now  used  only  as  an  auxiliary 
verb  with  the  sense  of  to  be  able,  though  formerly  it 
was  sometimes  employed  with  the  same  sense  as  a 
common  verb.  "In  evil,"  says  Bacon,  in  his  nth 
Essay  (Of  Great  Place),  "the  best  condition  is  not 
to  will ;  the  second,  not  to  can."  Ken  is  still  in  use 
both  as  a  verb  and  as  a  substantive.  The  verb  Nares 
interprets  as  meaning  to  see,  the  substantive  as  mean- 
ing sight ;  and  he  adds,  "  These  words,  though  not 
current  in  common  usage,  have  been  so  preserved  in 
poetic  language  that  they  cannot  properly  be  called 
obsolete.  Instances  are  numerous  in  writers  of  very 
modern  date.  ...  In  Scotland  these  words  are  still 
in  full  currency."  But  the  meaning  of  to  ken  in  the 
Scottish  dialect  is  not  to  see,  but  to  know.  And 
formerly  it  had  also  in  English  the  one  meaning  as 
well  as  the  other,  as  may  be  seen  both  in  Spenser 
and  in  Shakespeare.  The  case  is  similar  to  that  of 
the  Greek  s'/^w  (o/5a)  and  g<5s'w.  Cunnings  again,  in- 
stead of  being  the  wisdom  resulting  from  investiga- 
tion and  experience,  or  the  skill  acquired  by  practice, 
as  in  the  earlier  states  of  the  language,  has  now  come 
to  be  understood  as  involving  always  at  least  some- 
thing concealed  and  mysterious,  if  not  something  of 
absolute  deceit  or  falsehood. 

As  for  con  its  common  meaning  seems  to  be,  not 
to  know,  but  to  get  by  heart,  that  is,  to  acquire  a 
knowledge  of  in  the  most  complete  manner  possible. 
And  to  con  by  rote  is  to  commit  to  memoiy  by  an 
operation  of  mind  similar  to  the  turning  of  a  wheel 


sc.  III.]  Julius  Cjesar.  341 

(rota)^  or  by  frequent  repetition.  Rote  is  the  same 
word  with  routine. 

It  is  more  difficult  to  explain  the  expression  to  con 
thanks^  which  is  of  frequent  occurrence  in  our  old 
writers,  and  is  several  times  used  by  Shakespeare. 
Nares  explains  it  as  meaning  to  study  expressions 
of  gratitude.  But  it  really  seems,  in  most  instances 
at  least,  to  signify  no  more  than  to  give  or  return 
thanks.  See  a  note  on  Gammer  Gurton^s  Needle 
in  Collier's  edition  of  Dodsley's  Old  Plays.,  ii.  30. 
Con  in  the  present  passage  may  perhaps  mean  to 
utter  or  repeat ;  such  a  sense  might  come  not  unnat- 
urally out  of  the  common  use  of  the  word  in  the 
sense  of  to  get  by  heart.  It  is  remarkable  that  in 
German  also  they  say  Dank  wissen  (literally  to 
know  thanks)  for  to  give  thanks.  [  Con  thanks  is 
precisely  like  the  Latin  scire  gratias  and  the  French 
savoir  gre.     There  is  no  difficulty  in  the  case.] 

Our  common  know  is  not  from  any  of  the  Saxon 
verbs  above  enumerated,  but  is  the  modernized  form 
of  cnawan^  which  may  or  may  not  be  related  to  all 
or  to  some  of  them. 

Corresponding  to  cennan  and  connan,  it  may 
finally  be  added,  we  have  the  modern  German  ken- 
nen^  to  know,  and  konnen.,  to  be  able  or  to  know. 
But,  whatever  may  be  the  case  with  the  German 
Konig  (a  king),  it  is  impossible  to  admit  that  our 
English  king.,  the  representative  of  the  Saxon  cyng^ 
cyncg.)  or  cyning.,  can  have  anything  to  do  with 
either  cennan  or  connan.  It  is  of  quite  another 
family,  that  of  which  the  head  is  cyn.,  nation,  off- 
spring, whence  our  present  kin.,  and  kindred.,  and 
kind  (both  the  substantive  and  the  adjective). 

559.  Dearer  than  Plutus'  mine.  —  Bear  must 
here  be  understood,  not  in  the  derived  sense  of  3^- 


342  Philological  Commentary,    [act  iv. 

loved ^  but  in  its  literal  sense  of  precious  or  of  value. 
See  348.  It  is  ''''Pluto's  mine  "  in  all  the  Folios,  and 
also  in  Rowe  ;  nor  does  it  appear  that  the  mistake  is 
corrected  by  Mr.  Collier's  MS.  annotator,  although 
it  is,  of  course,  in  Mr.  Collier's  regulated  text. 

559.  If  that  thou  beest  a  Roman.  —  Our  modern 
substantive  verb,  as  it  is  called,  is  made  up  of  frag- 
ments of  several  verbs,  of  which,  at  the  least,  a?n^ 
ivas^  and  be  are  distinguishable,  even  if  we  hold  is^ 
as  well  as  are  and  art^  to  belong  to  the  same  root 
with  am  (upon  this  point  see  Latham's  £^?zg.  Lang. 
5th  edit.  612).  In  the  Saxon  we  have  eom  (some- 
times am)^  waes  (with  ivaere  and  waeron^  and 
wesan^  and  gewesen^.  beo  (with  bist  or  byst^  bebdh^ 
beon^  etc.),  eart  (or  eardh)^  is  {or ys)  ;  and  also  5/, 
seo^  sig^  synd,  and  syndon  (related  to  the  Latin  sum^ 
sunt^  sim^  sis,  etc.),  of  which  forms  there  is  no  trace 
in  our  existing  English.  On  the  other  hand,  there 
is  no  representative  in  the  written  Saxon  of  our  mod- 
ern plural  are.  Beest.,  which  we  have  here,  is  not 
to  be  confounded  with  the  subjunctive  be;  it  is  bist., 
byst^  the  2d  pers.  sing.  pres.  indie,  of  beon,  to  be. 
It  is  now  obsolete,  but  is  also  used  by  Milton  in  a 
famous  passage :  "  If  thou  beest  he ;  but  oh  how 
fallen  !  how  changed,"  etc.     P.  L.  i.  84. 

560.  Dishonor  shall  be  humour,  —  See  205.  — 
Any  indignity  you  offer  shall  be  regarded  as  a  mere 
caprice  of  the  moment.  Humour  here  probably 
means  nearly  the  same  thing  as  in  Cassius's  "  that 
rash  humour  which  my  mother  gave  me "  in  567. 
The  word  had  scarcely  acquired  in  Shakespeare's 
age  the  sense  in  which  it  is  now  commonly  used  as 
a  name  for  a  certain  mental  faculty  or  quality; 
though  its  companion  wit  had  already,  as  we  have 
seen,  come  to  be  so  employed.    See  435.     But  what 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  343 

if  the  true  reading  should  be  "  dishonor  shall  be 
honor ?^'  [White  "strongly  suspects"  that  Shake- 
speare wrote  "  honor."] 

560.  O  Cassius^  you  are  yoked  'with  a  lavih.  — 
Pope  prints,  on  conjecture,  *'  with  a  man;"  and  "  a 
lamb^'  at  any  rate,  can  hardly  be  right. 

561.  Blood  ill-tempered.  —  We  have  now  lost  the 
power  of  characterizing  the  blood  as  ill-te7npered 
(except  in  imitation  of  the  antique),  although  we 
might  perhaps  speak  of  it  as  ill-attempered.  The 
epithet  ill-tempered^  now  only  applied  to  the  sentient 
individual,  and  with  reference  rather  to  the  actual 
habit  of  the  mind  or  nature  than  to  that  of  which  it 
is  supposed  to  be  the  result,  was  formerly  employed, 
in  accordance  with  its  proper  etymological  import, 
to  characterize  anything  the  various  ingredients  of 
which  were  not  so  mixed  as  duly  to  qualify  each 
other. 

567.  Have  not  you  love  enough  to  bear  with  me  ? 
—  This  is  the  reading  of  all  the  old  copies,  and  is 
that  adopted  by  Mr.  Knight.  [So  Dyce  and  White.] 
Both  the  Variorum  text,  which  is  generally  followed, 
and  also  Mr.  Collier  in  his  regulated  text,  give  us 
"  Have  you  not." 

^(i^.  Tes,  Cassius;  and  fro7ti  hejiceforth.  —  All 
the  irregularity  that  we  have  in  this  line  is  the  slight 
and  common  one  of  a  superfluous  short  syllable  (the 
ius  of  Cassius).  Steevens,  in  his  dislike  to  even  this 
much  of  freedom  of  versification,  and  his  precise 
grammatical  spirit,  would  strike  out  the  fro7n^  as 
redundant  in  respect  both  of  the  sense  and  of  the 
measure. 

568.  He'll  think  your  mother  chides.  —  To  chide 
is  the  Saxon  cidan^  to  strive,  to  contend.  It  is  now 
scarcely  in  use  except  as  an  active  verb  with  the  sense 


344  Philological  Commentary,    [act  iv. 

of  to  reprove  with  sharpness ;  but  it  was  formerly 
used  also  absolutely  or  intransitively,  as  here,  for  to 
employ  chiding  or  angry  expressions.  Shakespeare 
has  both  to  chide  and  to  chide  at. 

Instead  of  the  stage  direction  '-'•JVoise  ivithin^^  the 
original  edition  has  ^'' Enter  a  Poet^ 

569.  Poet  [within].  —  The  within  is  inserted  here 
and  before  the  next  two  speeches  by  the  modern 
editors.  —  The  present  incident  (as  well  as  the  hint 
of  the  preceding  great  scene)  is  taken  from  Plutarch's 
Life  of  Brutus.  The  intruder,  however,  is  not  a  Poet 
in  Plutarch,  but  one  Marcus  Favonius,  who  affected 
to  be  a  follower  of  Cato,  and  to  pass  for  a  Cynic 
philosopher.  [Plutarch  adds  {North's  trans. ^  ^579i 
p.  1071,  as  quoted  by  Collier),  "  Cassius  fel  a 
laughing  at  him ;  but  Brutus  thrust  him  out  of  the 
chamber,  and  called  him  dogge  and  counterfeate 
cynick.  Howbeit,  his  comming  in  brake  their  strife 
at  that  time,  and  so  they  left  eche  other."]  There 
was  probably  no  other  authority  than  the  Prompter's 
book  for  designating  him  a  Poet. 

5 70.  Lucil.  [within] .  Tou  shall  not  come  to  them, 
—  In  the  Variorum  and  the  other  modern  editions, 
although  they  commonly  make  no  distinction  between 
the  abbreviation  for  Lucilius  and  that  for  Lucius^ 
this  speech  must  be  understood  to  be  assigned  to 
Lucius,  whose  presence  alone  is  noted  by  them  in 
the  heading  of  the  scene.  But  in  the  old  text  the 
speaker  is  distinctly  marked  Lucil.  This  is  a  con- 
clusive confirmation,  if  any  were  wanting,  of  the 
restoration  in  520.  [White  takes  the  same  view  of 
it.]  How  is  it  that  the  modern  editors  have  one  and 
all  of  them  omitted  to  acknowledge  the  universal 
deviation  here  from  the  authority  which  they  all 
profess  to  follow  ?    Not  even  Jennens  notices  it. 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  345 

573.  For  I  have  seen  more  years ^  p7n  sure^  than 
ye,  —  Plutarch  makes  Favonius  exclaim,  in  the 
words  of  Nestor  in  the  First  Book  of  the  Iliad, — 

^AVkd  nldEuff  •  djLicpix)  d^  veaniQOj  iatdv  ijiisio,  — 

which  North  translates,  — 

My  Lords,  I  pray  jou  hearken  both  to  me ; 
For  I  have  seen  more  years  than  such  ye  three. 

But  this  last  line  can  hardly  be  correctly  printed.  — 
The  Poet's  quotation,  it  may  be  noted,  is  almost  a 
repetition  of  what  Antony  has  said  to  Octavius 
in  495. 

574.  Ha,  ha;  how  vilely  doth  this  Cynic  rhyme  I 
—  The  form  of  the  word  in  all  the  Folios  is  vildely, 
or  vildly ;  and  that  is  the  form  which  it  generally, 
if  not  always,  has  in  Shakespeare.  The  modern 
editors,  however,  have  universally  substituted  the 
form  now  m  use,  as  with  then  (for  than),  and  (for 
an),  and  other  words  similarly  circumstanced. 

577*  I^^l  know  his  humour  when  he  knows  his 
time.  —  In  this  line  we  have  what  the  rule  as  com- 
monly laid  down  would  make  to  be  necessarily  a  short 
or  unaccented  syllable  carrying  a  strong  emphasis  no 
fewer  than  four  times  :  /// — his  —  he  —  his. 

577.  With  these  jigging  fools.  —  "  That  is,"  Ma- 
lone  notes,  "  with  these  silly  poets.  A  Jig  signified, 
in  our  author's  time,  a  metrical  composition,  as  well 
as  a  dance."     Capell  had  proposed  jingling. 

577.  Companion,  hence  I  —  The  term  companion 
was  formerly  used  contemptuously,  in  the  same  way 
in  which  we  still  use  its  synonyme  fellow.  The 
notion  originally  involved  in  companionship,  or  ac- 
companiment, would  appear  to  have  been  rather  that 
of  inferiority  than  of  equality.  A  companion  (or 
comes)  was  an  attendant.     The  Comites  of  the  iiii- 


34^  Philological  Commentary,    [act  iv. 

perial  court,  whence  our  modern  Counts  or  Earls, 
and  other  nobility,  were  certainly  not  regarded  as 
being  the  equals  of  the  Emperor,  any  more  than  a 
Companion  to  a  lady  is  now  looked  upon  as  the 
equal  of  her  mistress.  We  have  our  moderny^//ow 
from  the  Saxon  y^/«w;  companion  (with  company) 
immediately  from  the  French  compagnon  and  the 
Italian  compagno^  which  have  been  variously  de- 
duced from  com-panis^  com-paganus^  combine  (Low 
Latin,  from  binus)^  com-benno  (one  of  two  or  more 
riders  in  the  same  benna^  or  cart),  etc.  [It  is  pretty 
certainly  from  the  Low  Latin  companium^  com- 
pounded of  con  and  panis.  Wedgwood  compares 
the  Old  High  German  gi-mazo^  or  gi-leip,  board- 
fellow,  from  mazo^  meat,  or  leip^  bread ;  and  the 
Qo^\z  gahlaiba^  fellow-disciple  {John  xi.  i6),  from 
hlaibs^  bread.]  We  have  an  instance  of  the  use  of 
Companion  in  the  same  sense  in  which  we  still 
commonly  employ  fellow^  even  in  so  late  a  work  as 
Smolletfs  Roderick  Random^  published  in  1748: 
"  The  young  ladies,  who  thought  themselves  too 
much  concerned  to  contain  themselves  any  longer, 
set  up  their  throats  all  together  against  my  protector. 
'  Scurvy  companion  !  Saucy  tarpaulin  !  Rude  im- 
pertinent fellow !  Did  he  think  to  prescribe  to 
grandpapa ! ' "  Vol.  I.  ch.  3.  In  considering  this 
meaning  of  the  terms  companion  and  fellow^  we 
may  also  remember  the  proverb  which  tells  us  that 
"  Familiarity  breeds  Contempt." 

Neither  the  entry  nor  the  exit  of  Lucilius  and 
Titinius  is  noticed  in  the  old  copies. 

579.  Lucilius  and  Titinius^  bid  the  commanders, 
—  The  only  irregularity  in  the  prosody  of  this  line  is 
the  common  one  of  the  one  superfluous  short  syllable, 
the  ius  of  Titinius, 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  347 

580.  Immediately  to  us^  etc.  —  If  this,  as  may  be 
the  case,  is  to  form  a  complete  line  with  the  words 
of  Brutus  that  follow,  two  of  the  six  syllables  must  be 
regarded  as  superabundant.  But  there  might  per- 
haps be  a  question  as  to  the  accentuation  of  the  us. 

588.  Upon  what  sickness? — That  is,  after  or  in 
consequence  of  what  sickness.  It  is  the  same  use  of 
upon  which  we  have  in  457,  and  which  is  still  fa- 
miliar to  us  in  such  phrases  as  "  upon  this,"  "  upon 
that,"  "  upon  his  return,"  etc.,  though  we  no  longer 
speak  of  a  person  as  dying  upon  a  particular  sick- 
ness or  disease. 

589.  Impatient  of  my  absence^  etc.  —  This  speech 
is  throughout  a  striking  exemplification  of  the  ten- 
dency of  strong  emotion  to  break  through  the  logical 
forms  of  grammar,  and  of  how  possible  it  is  for 
language  to  be  perfectly  intelligible  and  highly  ex- 
pressive, sometimes,  with  the  grammar  in  a  more  or 
less  chaotic  or  uncertain  state.  It  does  not  matter 
much  whether  we  take  grief  to  be  a  nominative,  or 
a  second  genitive  governed  by  impatient.  In  prin- 
ciple, though  not  perhaps  according  to  rule  and 
established  usage,  *' Octavius  with  Mark  Antony" 
is  as  much  entitled  to  a  plural  verb  as  "  Octavius 
and  Mark  Antony."  Tidings^  which  is  a  frequent 
word  with  Shakespeare,  is  commonly  used  by  him 
as  a  plural  noun  ;  in  this  same  Play  we  have  after- 
wards "  these  tidings "  in  728;  but  there  are  other 
instances  besides  the  present  in  which  it  is  treated 
as  singular.  It  is  remarkable  that  we  should  have 
exactly  the  same  state  of  things  in  the  case  of  the 
almost  synonymous  term  news  (the  final  s  of  which, 
however,  has  been  sometimes  attempted  to  be  ac- 
counted for  as  a  remnant  of  -ess  or  -ness^  though 
its  exact  correspondence  in  form  with  the  French 


348  Philological  Commentary,    [act  iv. 

nouvelles^  of  the  same  signification,  would  seem  con- 
clusively enough  to  indicate  what  it  really  is).  At 
any  rate  tiding  and  new  (as  a  substantive)  are  both 
alike  unknown  to  the  language. 

589.  She  fell  distract.  —  In  Shakespeare's  day 
the  language  possessed  the  three  forms  distracted^ 
distract^  and  distraught ;  he  uses  them  all.  We 
have  now  only  the  first.     [See  on  252.] 

592.  The  original  stage  direction  here  is,  ^''Enter 
Boywith  Wine  and  Tapers'^  The  second  '''•Drinks^^ 
at  the  end  of  594  is  modern  ;  and  the  '•''Reenter  Ti- 
tinius^^  etc.,  is  ^'' Enter"  in  the  original. 

595.  And  call  in  question.  —  Here  we  have  prob- 
ably rather  a  figurative  expression  of  the  poet  than  a 
common  idiom  of  his  time.  Then  as  well  as  now, 
we  may  suppose,  it  was  not  things,  but  only  persons, 
that  were  spoken  of  in  ordinary  language  as  called 
in  question. 

597.  Bending  their  expedition.  —  Rather  what 
we  should  now  call  their  march  (or  movement)  — 
though  perhaps  implying  that  they  were  pressing 
on  —  than  their  expedition  (or  enterprise). 

598.  Myself  have  letters. — We  have  now  lost 
the  right  of  using  such  forms  as  either  myself  or 
himself  as  sufficient  nominatives,  though  they  still 
remain  perfectly  unobjectionable  accusatives.  We 
can  say  "I  blame  myself,"  and  "I  saw  himself;" 
hut  it  must  be  "I  myself  blame  him,"  and  "He 
himself  saw  it."  Here,  as  everywhere  else,  in  the 
original  text  the  myself  \%  in  two  words,  "  My  selfe." 
And  tenour  in  all  the  Folios,  and  also  in  both  Rowe's 
edition  and  Pope's,  is  tenure.,  a  form  of  the  word 
which  we  now  reserve  for  another  sense. 

600.  That  By  proscription^  and  bills  of  outlawry, 
—  The  word  outlawry  taking  the  accent  on  the  first 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  349 

syllable,  this  line  will  be  most  naturally  read  by 
being  regarded  as  characterized  by  the  common 
peculiarity  of  a  supernumerary  short  syllable  —  the 
tion  or  the  and — to  be  disposed  of,  as  usual,  by  the 
two  being  rapidly  enunciated  as  one.  It  will  in  this 
way  be  exactly  of  the  same  prosody  with  another 
that  we  have  presently :  "  Struck  Caesar  on  the 
neck.  —  O  you  flatterers"  (689).  It  might,  indeed, 
be  reduced  to  perfect  regularity  by  the  tion  being 
distributed  into  a  dissyllable,  —  ti-on^ — in  which  case 
the  prosody  would  be  completed  at  out,  and  the  two 
following  unaccented  syllables  would  count  for  noth- 
ing (or  be  what  is  called  hypercatalectic),  unless, 
indeed,  any  one  should  insist  upon  taking  them  for 
an  additional  foot,  and  so  holding  the  verse  to  be  an 
Alexandrine.  But  taste  and  probability  alike  protest 
against  either  of  these  ways  of  managing  the  matter. 
(See  what  is  said  in  regard  to  the  dissyllabication  of 
the  tion  or  sion  by  Shakespeare  in  the  note  on  246 : 
She  dreamt  to-night  she  saw  my  statue^  Nay,  even 
the  running  together  of  the  tion  and  the  and  is  not 
necessary,  nor  the  way  that  would  be  taken  by  a 
good  reader  ;  that  is  not  how  the  line  would  be  read, 
but  only  how  it  might  be  scanned  :  in  reading  it,  the 
and  would  be  rather  combined  with  the  bills.,  and  a 
short  pause  would,  in  fact,  be  made  after  the  tion, 
as  the  pointing  and  the  sense  require.  So  entirely 
unfounded  is  the  notion  that  a  pause,  of  whatever 
length,  occurring  in  the  course  of  a  verse  can  ever 
have  anything  of  the  prosodical  effect  of  a  word 
or  syllable. 

603.  Cicero  is  dead,  —  In  the  original  printed 
text  these  words  are  run  into  one  line  with  "  and  by 
that  order  of  proscription."  The  text  of  the  Vario- 
rum edition  presents  the  same  arrangement,  with 


350  Philological  Commentary,    [act  iv. 

the  addition  of  Ay  as  a  prefix  to  the  whole.  "  For 
the  insertion  of  the  affirmative  adverb,  to  complete 
the  verse,"  says  Steevens  in  a  note,  "  I  am  answera- 
ble." According  to  Jennens,  however,  this  addition 
was  also  made  by  Capell.  In  any  case,  it  is  plain 
that,  if  we  receive  the  Ay,  we  must  make  two  lines, 
the  first  ending  with  the  word  dead.  But  we  are  not 
entitled  to  exact  or  to  expect  a  perfect  observance 
of  the  punctilios  of  regular  prosody  in  such  brief 
expressions  of  strong  emotion  as  the  dialogue  is  here 
broken  up  into.  What  do  the  followers  of  Steevens 
profess  to  be  able  to  make,  in  the  way  of  prosody, 
of  the  very  next  utterance  that  we  have  from  Bru- 
tus,—the  "  No,  Messala"  of  604?  The  best  thing 
we  can  do  is  to  regard  Cassius's  "Cicero  one?" 
and  Messala's  responsive  "  Cicero  is  dead"  either  as 
hemistichs  (the  one  the  commencement,  the  other 
the  conclusion,  of  a  line),  or,  if  that  view  be  pre- 
ferred, as  having  no  distinct  or  precise  prosodical 
character  whatever.  Every  sense  of  harmony  and 
propriety,  however,  revolts  against  running  "  Cicero 
is  dead "  into  the  same  line  with  "  And  by  that 
order,"  etc.  [Collier,  Dyce,  Hudson,  and  White,  all 
omit  "  Ay,"  and  arrange  the  lines  as  here.] 

612.  JVM  meditating  that  she  must  die  once,  — 
For  this  use  of  with  see  362.  Once  has  here  the 
same  meaning  which  it  has  in  such  common  forms 
of  expression  as  "  Once,  when  I  was  in  London," 
"  Once  upon  a  time,"  etc.  —  that  is  to  say,  it  means 
once  without,  as  in  other  cases,  restriction  to  that 
particular  number.  Steevens,  correctly  enough,  in- 
terprets it  as  equivalent  to  "  at  some  time  or  other ;  " 
and  quotes  in  illustration,  from  The  Merry  Wives 
of  Windsor,  iii.  4,  "  I  pray  thee,  once  to-night  Give 
my  sweet  Nan  this  ring."    [Compare  Jeremiah  xiii. 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  351 

27.]     The  prosody  of  the  line  is  the  same  that  has 
been  noted  in  435,  435,  and  536. 

614.  I  have  as  much  of  this  in  art  as  you^  etc. — 
In  art  Malone  interprets  to  mean  "  in  theory."  It 
rather  signifies  by  acquired  knowledge,  or  learn- 
ing, as  distinguished  from  natural  disposition.  The 
passage  is  one  of  the  many  in  our  old  poets,  more 
especially  Shakespeare  and  Spenser,  running  upon 
the  relation  between  nature  and  art. 

615.  Well^  to  our  work  alive. — This  must  mean, 
apparently,  let  us  proceed  to  our  living  business,  to 
that  which  concerns  the  living,  not  the  dead.  The 
commentators  say  nothing,  though  the  expression  is 
certainly  one  that  needs  explanation. 

618.  This  it  is.  —  '-'-ThQ  overflow  of  the  metre," 
Steevens  observes,  "  and  the  disagreeable  clash  of  it 
is  with  *  Tis  at  the  beginning  of  the  next  line,  are 
almost  proofs  that  our  author  only  wrote,  with  a 
common  ellipsis.  This"  He  may  be  right.  The 
expression  "  This  it  is"  sounds  awkward  otherwise, 
as  well  as  prosodically ;  and  the  superfluous,  or 
rather  encumbering  it  is  would  be  accounted  for  by 
supposing  the  commencement  of  the  following  line 
to  have  been  first  so  written  and  then  altered  to  '  Tis. 

619.  Good  reasons  must^  of  force.  —  We  scarcely 
now  say  of  force  (for  of  necessity,  or  necessarily)  ; 
although  perforce  continues  to  be  sometimes  still 
employed  in  poetry.  It  may  even  be  doubted  if  this 
be  Milton's  meaning  in 

our  conqueror  (whom  I  now 

Of  force  believe  almighty,  since  no  less 
Than  such  could  have  o'erpowered  such  force  as  ours). 

P.  L.  i.  145. 

619.  The  enemy ^  marching  along  by  them, — 
This  line,  with  the  two  weak  syllables  in  the  last 


352  Philological  Commentary,     [act  iv. 

places  of  two  successive  feet  (the  second  and  third) 
might  seem  at  first  to  be  of  the  same  kind  with  the 
one  noted  in  600.  But  the  important  distinction  is, 
that  the  first  of  the  two  weak  syllables  here,  the  -y 
of  enemy,  would  in  any  circumstances  be  entitled  to 
occupy  the  place  it  does  in  our  heroic  verse,  in  virtue 
of  the  principle  that  in  English  prosody  every  syllable 
of  a  polysyllabic  word  acquires  the  privilege  or  char- 
acter of  a  strong  syllable  when  it  is  as  far  removed 
from  the  accented  syllable  of  the  word  as  the  nature 
of  the  verse  requires.  See  Prolegomena,  Sect.  vi. 
The  dissonance  here,  accordingly,  is  very  slight  in 
comparison  with  what  we  have  in  600. — For  "Along 
by  them  "  see  200. 

619.  By  them  shall  m.ake  a  fuller  nu?nber  up,  — 
For  this  use  of  shall  see  the  note  on  Ccesar  should 
be  a  beast  in  238.  —  The  "  along  by  them  "  followed 
by  the  "  by  them  "  is  an  artifice  of  expression,  which 
may  be  compared  with  the  "  by  Csesar  and  by  you  " 
of  344. 

619.  Come  on  refreshed,  new-hearted,  and  en- 
couraged.—  "New-hearted"  is  the  correction  of 
Mr.  Collier's  MS.  annotator  ;  the  old  reading  is  new- 
added,  which  is  not  English  or  sense,  and  the  only 
meaning  that  can  be  forced  out  of  which,  besides, 
gives  us  merely  a  repetition  of  what  has  been  already 
said  in  the  preceding  line,  a  repetition  which  is  not 
only  unnecessary,  but  would  be  introduced  in  the 
most  unnatural  way  and  place  possible ;  whereas 
new-hearted  is  the  very  sort  of  word  that  one  would 
expect  to  find  where  it  stands,  in  association  with 
refreshed  Q.nd  encouraged.  [Staunton  and  White 
have  "  new-added  ;  "  Hudson,  "  new-aided,"  which 
was  independently  suggested  by  Dyce  and  Singer, 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C-^sar.  353 

and  which,  if  any  change  is  made,  seems  the  most 
plausible  one.] 

619.  From  which  advantage  shall  we  cut  him 
off.  —  Shakespeare  perhaps  wrote  we  shall, 

621.    Under  your  pardon,  —  See  357. 

621 .  We^  at  the  height.,  etc.  —  Being  at  the  height, 
are  in  consequence  ready  to  decline  —  as  the  tide 
begins  to  recede  as  soon  as  it  has  attained  the  point 
of  full  flood. 

621.  Omitted.  —  The  full  resolution  will  be  — 
which  tide  being  omitted  to  be  taken  at  the  flood. 

622.  Then.,  with  your  will.,  etc.  —  In  the  original 
edition  "  We'll  along"  is  made  part  of  the  first  line. 
Mr.  Collier  prints,  it  does  not  appear  on  what,  or 
whether  on  any,  authority,  "  We  will  along,"  as  had 
been  done  on  conjecture  by  Rowe,  Pope,  and  others. 
[So  Hudson  and  White.  Dyce  has  '^  We'll."]  The 
"We'll  along"  gives  us  merely  the  very  common 
slight  irregularity  of  a  single  superabundant  sylla- 
ble.—  "  With  your  will"  is  equivalent  to  With  your 
consent ;  "  We'll  along  "  to  We  will  onward.  But 
the  passage  is  probably  corrupt. 

623.  The  deep  of  night  is  crept.  —  See  373. 

623.  Which  we  will  niggard.  —  Niggard  is  com- 
mon both  as  a  substantive  and  as  an  adjective ;  but 
this  is  probably  the  only  passage  in  the  language  in 
which  it  is  employed  as  a  verb.  Its  obvious  meaning 
is,  as  Johnson  gives  it  in  his  Dictionary,  "  to  stint,  to 
supply  sparingly."     [See  on  fathered^  213.] 

623.  There  is  no  m^ore  to  say.  —  There  is  no  more 
for  us  to  say.  So,  "  I  have  work  to  do,"  "  He  has  a 
house  to  let,"  etc.  In  Ireland  it  is  thought  more 
correct  to  announce  a  house  as  to  be  let;  but  that 
would  rather  mean  that  it  is  going  to  be  let.  [Com- 
pare Marsh,  Lectures.^  First  Series^  p.  652.] 
23 


354  Philological  Commentary,     [act  iv. 

624.  Early  to-morrow  will  we  rise^  and  hence. — 

It  might  almost  be  said  that  the  adverb  hence  is  here 

turned  into  a  verb ;  it  is  construed  exactly  as  rise 

is:  "Willw^e  rise/'  —  "  w^ill  we  hence."     So,  both 

with  hence  and  home^  in  the  opening  line  of  the 

Play:  — 

Hence !  home,  jou  idle  creatures. 

625.  Lucius^  my  gown^  etc.  —  The  best  way  of 
treating  the  commencement  of  this  speech  of  Brutus 
is  to  regard  the  w^ords  addressed  to  Lucius  as  one 
hemistich  and  "Farewell,  good  Messala"  as  another. 
There  are,  in  fact,  two  speeches.  It  is  the  same  case 
that  we  have  in  505.  —  In  the  old  editions  the  stage 
directions  are,  after  624,  ''''Enter  Lucius^^  and  then, 
again,  after  626,  ''^ Enter  Lucius  with  the  gown." 
After  631  there  is  merely  '''•Exeunt." 

633.  Poor  knave^  I  blame  thee  not;  thou  art 
o'erwatched.  —  For  knave  see  646.  —  Overwatched, 
or  overwatched,  is  used  in  this  sense,  of  worn  out 
with  watching,  by  other  old  writers  as  well  as  by 
Shakespeare,  however  irreconcilable  such  an  appli- 
cation of  it  may  be  with  the  meaning  of  the  verb  to 
watch.     We  have  it  again  in  Lear,  ii.  2  :  — 

All  weary  and  o'erwatched, 
Take  vantage,  heavy  eyes,  not  to  behold 
This  shameful  lodging. 

633.  Some  other  of  my  men.  —  By  some  other 
we  should  now  mean  some  of  a  different  sort.  For 
some  more  we  say  some  others.  But,  although  other 
thus  used  as  a  substantive,  with  the  plural  of  the 
ordinary  form,  is  older  than  the  time  of  Shakespeare, 
I  do  not  recollect  that  he  anywhere  has  others.  Nor 
does  it  occur,  I  believe,  even  in  Clarendon.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  is  frequent  in  Milton.     [See  78.] 

634.  Varro  and  Claudius  1  —  In  the  old  copies  it 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  355 

is  "  Varrus  and  Claudio"  both  in  the  speech  and 
in  the  stage  direction  that  follows. 

636.  I  pray  you,  Sirs.  —  Common  as  the  word 
Sir  still  is,  we  have  nearly  lost  the  form  Sirs.  It 
survives,  however,  in  the  Scottish  dialect,  with  the 
pronunciation  of  Sirce,  as  the  usual  address  to  a 
number  of  persons,  much  as  Masters  was  formerly 
in  English  [see  401,  407],  only  that  it  is  applied  to 
women  as  well  as  to  men.  [Compare  Acts  vii.  26, 
xiv.  15,  xvi.  30,  etc.  Mrs.  Clarke  does  not  give 
Sirs,  but  it  occurs  in  T'itus  Andronicus,  iii.  i.;  i 
Henry  IV.,  ii.  2  and  4,  etc.] 

638.  Servants  lie  down.  —  This  stage  direction  is 
modern. 

640.  Canst  thou  hold  up,  etc.  —  This  and  the 
next  line  are  given  in  the  Second  Folio  in  the  fol- 
lowing blundering  fashion,  the  result,  no  doubt,  of  an 
accidental  displacement  of  the  types  :  — 

Canst  thou  hold  up  thy  instrument  a  straine  or  two. 
And  touch  thy  heavy  eyes  a-while. 

The  transposition  is  corrected  by  Mr.  Collier's  MS. 
annotator. 

644.  /  know  young"  bloods  look.  —  See  56. 

646.  It  was  well  done.  —  So  in  the  old  copies ; 
but  the  Variorum  edition  has  "  It  25,"  in  which  it  has 
been  followed  by  other  modern  editors,  though  not 
by  either  Mr.  Knight  or  Mr.  Collier.  [Dyce  and 
White  have  "  was  ; "  Hudson  has  "  is."] 

646.  [^Thy  leaden  mace.  —  Compare  Spenser, 
F.  ^.  i.4.44:  — 

But  whenas  Morpheus  had  with  leaden  mace 
Arrested  all  that  courtly  company,  — ] 

646.  Gentle  knave,  good  night.  —  Knave,  from 
the  Saxon  cnafa,  or  cnapa,  having  meant  originally 
only  a  boy,  and  meaning  now  only  a  rogue,  was  in 


356  Philological  Commentary,     [act  iv. 

Shakespeare's  time  in  current  use  with  either  signifi- 
cation. It  was  in  its  state  of  transition  from  the  one 
to  the  other,  and  consequently  of  fluctuation  between 
the  two.  The  German  Knabe  still  retains  the  origi- 
nal sense. 

646.  I  njoill  not  do  thee  so  much  wrong  to  wake 
thee.  —  See  407. 

The  stage  direction  "Z^  sits  down"  is  modern. 

646.  //  comes  upon  me.  —  It  advances  upon  me. 

646.  Speak  to  me  what  thou  art,  —  We  scarcely 
now  use  speak  thus,  for  to  announce  or  declare 
generally. 

647,  648.  Thy  evil  spirit .^  Brutus .,  etc.  —  It  is 
absurd  to  attempt,  as  the  modern  editors  do,  to  make 
a  complete  verse  out  of  these  two  speeches.  It  can- 
not be  supposed  that  Brutus  laid  his  emphasis  on 
thou.  The  regularities  of  prosody  are  of  necessity 
neglected  in  such  brief  utterances,  amounting  in 
some  cases  to  mere  ejaculations  or  little  more,  as 
make  up  the  greater  part  of  the  remainder  of  this 
scene. 

650.  Well;  then  I  shall  see  thee  again  ?  —  So  the 
words  stand  in  the  old  copies.  Nothing  whatever 
is  gained  by  printing  the  words  in  two  lines,  the  first 
consisting  only  of  the  word  Well^  as  is  done  by  the 
generality  of  the  modern  editors.  [Not  by  Collier, 
Hudson,  or  White.] 

65 1 .  Ghost  vanishes.  —  This  stage  direction  is 
not  in  the  old  editions.  Steevens  has  objected  that 
the  apparition  could  not  be  at  once  the  shade  of 
Caesar  and  the  evil  genius  of  Brutus.  Shakespeare's 
expression  is  the  evil  spirit  of  Brutus,  by  which 
apparently  is  meant  nothing  more  than  a  super- 
natural visitant  of  evil  omen.  At  any  rate,  the  pres- 
ent apparition  is  afterwards,  in  773,  distinctly  stated 


sc.  III.]  Julius  Caesar.  357 

by  Brutus  himself  to  have  been  the  ghost  of  the 
murdered  Dictator :  — 

The  ghost  of  Caesar  hath  appeared  to  me 
Two  several  times  by  night :  at  Sardis,  once. 

So,  also,  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra^  ii.  6 :  — 

Since  Julius  Caesar, 
Who  at  Philippi  the  good  Brutus  ghosted. 

Perhaps  we  might  also  refer  to  743  :  — 

O  Julius  Caesar,  thou  art  mighty  yet ! 
Thy  spirit  walks  abroad. 

And  to  "  Caesar's  spirit,  ranging  for  revenge,"  in  362. 
It  may  be  vv^ell  to  append  the  two  accounts  of  the 
incident  given  by  Plutarch,  as  translated  by  North. 
In  the  Life  of  Brutus  the  apparition  is  described 
merely  as  "  a  wonderful  strange  and  monstruous 
shape  of  a  body,"  and  the  narrative  proceeds  :  "  Bru- 
tus boldly  asked  what  he  was,  a  god  or  a  man,  and 
what  cause  brought  him  thither.  The  spirit  an- 
swered him,  I  am  thy  evil  spirit,  Brutus ;  and  thou 
shalt  see  me  by  the  city  of  Philippi.  Brutus,  being 
no  otherwise  afraid,  replied  again  unto  it,  Well, 
then,  I  shall  see  thee  again.  The  spirit  presently 
vanished  away  ;  and  Brutus  called  his  men  unto  him, 
who  told  him  that  they  heard  no  noise  nor  saw  any- 
thing at  all."  In  the  Life  of  Caesar  the  account  is  as 
follows :  "  Above  all,  the  ghost  that  appeared  unto 
Brutus  showed  plainly  that  the  gods  were  offended 
with  the  murder  of  Csesar.  The  vision  was  thus. 
Brutus,  being  ready  to  pass  over  his  army  from  the 
city  of  Abydos  to  the  other  coast  lying  directly 
against  it,  slept  every  night  (as  his  manner  was) 
in  his  tent,  and,  being  yet  awake,  thinking  of  his 
affairs,  ...  he  thought  he  heard  a  noise  at  his  tent 
door,  and,  looking  toward  the  light  of  the  lamp  that 


358  Philological  Commentary,    [act  iv. 

waxed  very  dim,  he  saw  a  horrible  vision  of  a  man, 
of  a  wonderful  greatness  and  dreadful  look,  which  at 
the  first  made  him  marvellously  afraid.  But  when 
he  saw  that  it  did  him  no  hurt,  but  stood  at  his  bed- 
side and  said  nothing,  at  length  he  asked  him  what 
he  was.  The  image  answered  him,  I  am  thy  ill 
angel,  Brutus,  and  thou  shalt  see  me  by  the  city  of 
Philippi.  Then  Brutus  replied  again,  and  said, 
Well,  I  shall  see  thee  then.  Therewithal  the  spirit 
presently  vanished  from  him." 

It  is  evident  that  Shakespeare  had  both  passages 
in  his  recollection,  though  the  present  scene  is  chiefly 
founded  upon  the  first.  Plutarch,  however,  it  will 
be  observed,  nowhere  makes  the  apparition  to  have 
been  the  ghost  of  Caesar. 

652.  IV/iy,  I  will  see  thee,  —  This  is  an  addition 
by  Shakespeare  to  the  dialogue  as  given  by  Plutarch 
in  both  lives.  And  even  Plutarch's  simple  afl[irma- 
tive  I  shall  see  thee  appears  to  be  converted  into  an 
interrogation  in  650.  It  is  remarkable  that  in  our 
next  English  Plutarch,  which  passes  as  having  been 
superintended  by  Dryden,  we  have  "  I  will  see  thee  " 
in  both  lives.  The  Greek  is,  in  both  passages, 
merely  "0\^^a.\  (I  shall  see  thee). 

652.  Boy  I  Lucius  I — Varrol  Claudius  I — Here 
again,  as  in  634,  all  the  Folios,  in  this  and  the  next 
line,  have  Varrus  and  Claudio.     So  also  in  660. 

660.  Sleep  again,  Lucius,  etc.  —  It  is  hardly 
necessary  to  attempt  to  make  verse  of  this.  In  the 
original  text  I^ellow  is  made  to  stand  as  part  of  the 
first  line. 

66^.  Go,  and  commend  me  to  my  brother  Cas- 
sius.  —  See  278. 

668.  Bid  him.  set  on  his  powers  betimes  before,  — 
The  only  sense  which  the  expression  to  set  on  now 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  359 

retains  is  to  excite  or  instigate  to  make  an  attack. 
The  other  senses  which  it  had  in  Shakespeare's  day 
may  be  seen  from  27  ("  Set  on  ;  and  leave  no  cere- 
mony out ")  ;  from  the  passage  before  us,  in  which 
it  means  to  lead  forward  or  set  out  with  ;  from  713 
("Let  them  set  on  at  once")  ;  from  745  ("  Labeo 
and  Flavius,  set  our  battles  on  ").  —  Betimes  (mean- 
ing early)  is  commonly  supposed  to  be  a  corruption 
of  by  time^  that  is,  it  is  said,  by  the  proper  time. 
But  this  is  far  frorh  satisfactory.  Shakespeare  has 
occasionally  betime.  [Compare  Chaucer  {Parson^s 
Tale)  :  "If  men  be  so  negligent  that  they  descharge 
it  nought  by  tyme;"  and  Rob.  de  Brunne :  "If  he 
bi  tyme  had  gon."  These  and  similar  examples 
seem  to  confirm  the  etymology  mentioned  above. 
Betimes  is  found  in  the  Bible,  Gen.  xxvi.  31;  2 
Chron,  xxxvi.   15,  etc.] 

ACT   V. 

Scene  I.  The  heading  —  '•^  Scene  /.  The  plains 
of  Philippi  "  —  is  modern,  as  usual. 

670.  Their  battles  are  at  hand.  —  Battle  is  com- 
mon in  our  old  writers  with  the  sense  of  a  division  of 
an  army,  or  what  might  now  be  called  a  battalion. 
So  again  in  673.  When  employed  more  precisely 
the  word  means  the  central  or  main  division. 

670.  They  mean  to  warn  us.  —  To  warn  was 
formerly  the  common  word  for  what  we  now  call  to 
summon.  Persons  charged  with  offences,  or  against 
whom  complaints  were  made,  were  warned  to  ap- 
pear to  make  their  answers  ;  members  were  warned 
to  attend  the  meetings  of  the  companies  or  other 
associations  to  which  they  belonged ;  and  in  war 
either  of  the  hostile  parties,  as  here,  was  said  to  be 


360  Philological  Commentary,     [act  v. 

warned  when  in  any  way  called  upon  or  appealed 
to  by  the  other.  Thus  in  King-  Jokn^  ii.  i,  the 
citizens  of  Angiers,  making  their  appearance  in  an- 
swer to  the  French  and  English  trumpets,  exclaim, 
"Who  is  it  that  hath  warned  us  to  the  walls?" 
The  word,  which  is  connected  with  ware  and  wary^ 
is  from  the  Saxon  warnian.  But  the  Anglo-Norman 
dialect  of  the  French  has  also  garner  and  garnisher 
with  the  same  meaning. 

671 .  With  fearful  bravery.  —  Malone's  notion  is, 
that  ^''fearful  is  used  here,  as  in  many  other  places, 
in  an  active  sense, — producing  fear  —  intimidat- 
ing ^  But  the  utmost,  surely,  that  Antony  can  be 
understood  to  admit  is,  that  their  show  of  bravery 
was  intended  to  intimidate.  It  seems  more  conso- 
nant to  the  context  to  take  fearful  bravery  for  bravery 
in  show  or  appearance,  which  yet  is  full  of  real  fear 
or  apprehension.  Steevens  suggests  that  the  ex- 
pression is  probably  to  be  interpreted  by  the  follow- 
ing passage  from  the  Second  Book  of  Sidney's  Arca- 
dia :  "  Her  horse,  fair  and  lusty ;  which  she  rid  so 
as  might  show  a  fearful  boldness^  daring  to  do  that 
which  she  knew  that  she  knew  not  how  to  do."  The 
meaning  is  only  so  as  showed  (not  so  as  should 
show).  In  like  manner  a  few  pages  before  we  have, 
"But  his  father  had  so  deeply  engraved  the  sus- 
picion in  his  heart,  that  he  thought  his  flight  rather 
to  proceed  of  a  fearful  guiltiness.,  than  of  an  hum- 
ble faithfulness."  ["  Fearful "  in  the  sense  of  timo- 
rous, faint-hearted,  is  very  common  in  Old  English. 
See  Dent.  xx.  8 ;  fudges  vii.  3 ;  Isa.  xxxv.  4 ; 
Matt.  viii.  26 ;  JRev.  xxi.  8,  etc.  So  in  3  Henry 
VL  ii.  5,  "  the  fearful  flying  hare."  "  Dreadful " 
is  used  in  the  same  sense  by  Chaucer  (  C.  T.  1481)  : 
"  With  dredful  foot  than  stalketh  Falamon ; "  and 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C-^sar.  361 

(C.  T,  11621):  "With  dredfal  herte  and  with  ful 
humble  chere."  So  Gower  (  Conf.  Am.  i.  p.  247)  : 
"  Whereof  the  dredfull  hertes  tremblen."  Wichf  s 
Bible  has  "a  dreedful  herte"  in  Deut.  xxviii.  65. 
Compare  the  use  of  ''awful"  in  Milton  {Hymn 
on  Nativ.  59)  :  "  And  kings  sat  still  with  awful 
eye."] 

671.  By  this  face.  —  By  this  show  or  pretence  of 
courage. 

671.  To  fasten  in  our  thoughts  that  they  have 
courage,  —  We  have  now  lost  the  power  of  con- 
struing to  fasten  in  this  way,  as  if  it  belonged  to 
the  same  class  of  verbs  with  to  think.,  to  believe.,  to 
suppose.,  to  imagine.,  to  say.,  to  assert.,  to  affirm.,  to 
declare.,  to  swear.,  to  coitvince.,  to  inform.,  to  re- 
m-ember.,  to  forget.,  etc.,  the  distinction  of  which 
seems  to  be  that  they  are  all  significant  either  of  an 
operation  performed  by,  or  at  least  with  the  aid  of, 
or  of  an  effect  produced  upon,  the  mind. 

672.  [  Their  bloody  sign  of  battle.,  etc.  —  Com- 
pare North's  Plutarch :  "  The  next  morning  by 
break  of  day,  the  signal  of  battle  was  set  out  in 
Brutus*  and  Cassius'  camp,  which  -v^as  an  arming 
scarlet  coat."] 

674.  Keep  thou  the  left.  —  Ritson  remarks  — 
"  The  tenor  of  the  conversation  evidently  requires 
us  to  read  yoti.''*  He  means,  apparently,  that  you 
and  your  are  the  words  used  elsewhere  throughout 
the  conversation.  But  he  forgets  that  the  singular 
pronoun  is  peculiarly  emphatic  in  this  line,  as  being 
placed  in  contrast  or  opposition  to  the  /.  It  is  true, 
however,  that  thou  and  you  were  apt  to  be  mistaken 
for  one  another  in  old  handwriting  from  the  simi- 
larity of  the  characters  used  for  th  and  jk,  which  is 
such  that  the  printers  have  in  many  cases  been  led 


362  Philological  Commentary,      [act  v. 

to  represent  the  one  by  the  other,  giving  us,  for  in- 
stance, jj/^  for  the^  yereof^  ox  fof^  for  thereof^  etc. 

675.  Why  do  you  cross  me  in  this  exigent?  — 
This  is  Shakespeare's  word  for  what  we  now  call 
an  exigence,  or  exigency.  Both  forms,  however, 
were  already  in  use  in  his  day.  Exigent^  too,  as 
Nares  observes,  appears  to  have  then  sometimes 
borne  the  sense  of  extremity  or  end,  which  is  a  very 
slight  extension  of  its  proper  import  of  great  or  ex- 
treme pressure.  [For  an  instance  of  this  use  of  the 
word,  see  i  Henry  VI.  ii.  5 :  — 

These  eyes,  like  lamps  whose  wasting  oil  is  spent, 
Grow  dim,  as  drawing  to  their  exigent.] 

677.  Drum,  etc.  —  '-'•Lucilius,  Titinius,  Messala^ 
and  Others"  is  a  modern  addition  to  the  heading 
here. 

679.  Shall  we  give  sign  of  battle? —  We  should 
now  say  "  give  signal." 

680.  We  will  answer  on  their  charge.  —  We  will 
wait  till  they  begin  to  make  their  advance. 

680.  Make  forth.  —  To  make,  a  word  which  is 
still  used  with  perhaps  as  much  latitude  and  variety 
of  application  as  any  other  in  the  language,  was, 
like  to  do,  employed  formerly  in  a  number  of  ways 
in  which  it  has  now  ceased  to  serve  us.  Nares 
arranges  its  obsolete  senses  under  seven  *heads,  no 
one  of  which,  however,  exactly  comprehends  the 
sense  it  bears  in  the  present  expression.  To  make 
forth  is  to  step  forward.  What  Antony  says  is 
addressed,  not  to  the  troops,  but  to  Octavius ;  his 
meaning  is,  Let  us  go  forward ;  the  generals  — 
Brutus  and  Cassius  —  would  hold  some  parley 
with  us. 

(i^d.  The  posture  of  your  blows  are  yet  unknown. 
—  This  is  the  reading  of  all  the  old  copies.     The 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  363 

grammatical  irregularity  is  still  common.  "Zryet" 
is  the  correction  of  Mr.  Collier's  MS.  annotator. 
One  would  be  inclined  rather  to  suspect  the  word 
posture.  It  seems  a  strange  word  for  what  it  is  evi- 
dently intended  to  express. 

689.  Struck  Ccesar  on  the  neck.  —  O  you  flat- 
terersl  —  The  word  in  the  old  text  is  strook  (as  in 
347).  There  is  the  common  prosodical  irregularity 
of  a  superfluous  short  syllable.  —  See  600. 

690.  Flatterers  ! — Now^  Brutus^  thank  yourself. 

—  The  prosodical  imperfection  of  this  line  consists 
in  the  want  of  the  first  syllable.  It  is  a  hemistich 
consisting  of  four  feet  and  a  half. 

691.  The  proof  of  it.  —  That  is,  the  proof  of  our 
arguing.  And  by  the  proof  \i\vl?X.  here  be  meant  the 
arbitrament  of  the  sword  to  which  it  is  the  prologue 
or  jDrelude.  It  is  by  that  that  they  are  to  prove  what 
they  have  been  arguing  or  asserting. 

691.  Look  I  I  draw  a  sword^  etc.  —  It  is  perhaps 
as  well  to  regard  the  Look  as  a  hemistich  (of  half  a 
foot)  ;  but  in  the  original  edition  it  is  printed  in  the 
same  line  with  what  follows. 

691 .  Never.,  till  Ccesar' s  three  and  thirty  wounds, 

—  Theobald  changed  this  to  "  three  and  twenty ^^  — 
"  from  the  joint  authorities,"  as  he  says,  "  of  Appian, 
Plutarch,  and  Suetonius."  And  he  may  be  right  in 
believing  that  the  error  was  not  Shakespeare's.  The 
*'  thirty,"  however,  escapes  the  condemnation  of  Mr. 
Collier's  MS.  annotator. 

691.  Have  added  slaughter  to  the  sword  of 
traitors.  ^—  This  is  not  very  satisfactory ;  but  it  is 
better,  upon  the  whole,  than  the  amendment  adopted 
by  Mr.  Collier  on  the  authority  of  his  MS.  annota- 
tor—  "  Have  added  slaughter  to  the  word  of  traitor ; " 

—  which  would  seem  to  be  an  admission  on  the  part 


364  Philological  Commentary,      [act  v. 

of  Octavius  (impossible  in  the  circumstances)  that 
Brutus  and  Cassius  were  as  yet  free  from  actual 
treasonable  slaughter,  and  traitors  only  in  word  or 
name.  [Collier,  in  his  second  edition,  remarks  that 
"  the  emendation  may  reasonably  be  disputed,"  and 
returns  to  the  old  reading.] 

692.  Ccesar^  thou  canst  not  die  by  traitors^  hands. 
—  In  the  standard  Variorum  edition,  which  is  fol- 
lowed by  many  modern  reprints,  this  line  is  strangely 
given  as  "  Caesar,  thou  canst  not  die  by  traitors."  It 
is  right  in  all  Mr.  Knight's  and  Mr.  Collier's  edi- 
tions. 

694.  O,  if  thou  nvert  the  noblest  of  thy  strain.  — 
Strain.,  or  strene.,  is  stock  or  race.  The  word  is 
used  several  times  by  Shakespeare  in  this  sense,  and 
not  only  by  Chaucer  and  Spenser,  but  even  by  Dry- 
den,  Waller,  and  Prior.  The  radical  meaning  seems 
to  be  anything  stretched  out  or  extended ;  hence  a 
series  either  of  progenitors,  or  of  words  or  musical 
notes  or  sentiments. 

694.  Thou  couldst  not  die  more  honorable. — 
This  is  not  Shakespeare's  usual  form  of  expression, 
and  we  may  suspect  that  he  actually  wrote  honora- 
bly (or  honourablie) . 

697.  The  original  stage  direction  is  '''Exit  Octa- 
vius., Antony.,  and  Ar?7ty." 

698.  [  Why  now^  blow.,  wind;  etc.  —  In  White's 
edition  this  line  is  punctuated  as  a  question  —  a 
misprint  probably.] 

699.  Ho!  Lucilius;  etc.  —  This  is  given  as  one 
verse  in  the  original,  and  nothing  is  gained  by  print- 
ing the  Ho  I  in  another  line  by  itself,  as  some  modern 
editors  do.  The  verse  is  complete,  except  that  it 
wants  the  first  syllable  —  a  natural  peculiarity  of  an 
abrupt  commencement  or  rejoinder.     So  in  690.  — 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  365 

In  the  original  edition  this  speech  is  followed  by 
the  stage  direction  ^^Lucillius  and  Messala  stand 
forth;  "  and  there  is  no  other  after  700. 

703.  As  this  very  day.  —  We  are  still  familiar 
with  this  form  of  expression,  at  least  in  speaking. 
We  may  understand  it  to  mean  As  is,  or  as  falls,  this 
very  day ;  or  rather,  perhaps,  as  if,  or  as  it  were, 
this  very  day. 

703.  On  our  former  ensign.  —  JPor7ner  is  altered 
to  forward^  it  seems,  by  Mr.  Collier's  MS.  annotator  ; 
and  the  correction  ought  probably  to  be  accepted. 
[But,  as  White  remarks,  the  use  of  the  comparative 
for  the  superlative  was  not  uncommon  in  Shake- 
speare's day  ;  and  Collier  himself  retains  former. '\ 

703.  Who  to  Philippi  here  consorted  us.  — 
Shakespeare's  usual  syntax  is  to  consort  with;  but 
he  has  consort  as  an  active  verb  in  other  passages  as 
well  as  here. 

703.   This  morning  are  they  fed  away^  and  gone. 

—  See  373. 

703.  As  we  were  sickly  prey. —  As  if  we  were.  — 
See  57. 

703.  \_A  canopy  most  fatal.  —  Hudson  has  "  faith- 
ful "  instead  of  "  fatal."  If  not  a  misprint,  it  is  a 
most  unfortunate  alteration.] 

705.  To  meet  all  perils.  —  So  in  the  First  Folio. 
The  other  Folios  have  peril. 

707.  Lovers  in  peace.  —  See  259. 

707.  But^  since  the  affairs  of  men  rest  still  un- 
certain. —  '•'•Rests  still  i7zcertaine  "  is  the  reading  in 
the  original  edition. 

707.  Lefs  reason  with  the  worst  that  may  befall. 

—  The  abbreviation  lefs  had  not  formerly  the  vulgar 
or  slovenly  air  which  is  conceived  to  unfit  it  now 
for  dignified  composition.     We  have  had  it  twice 


366  Philological  Commentary,      [act  v. 

in  Brutus's  impressive  address,  187.  Shakespeare, 
however,  does  not  frequently  resort  to  it,  —  rather, 
one  would  say,  avoids  it.  —  To  befall  as  a  neuter  or 
intransitive  verb  is  nearly  gone  out  both  in  prose  and 
verse ;  as  is  also  to  fall  in  the  same  sense,  as  used 
by  Brutus  in  the  next  speech. 

708.  Even  by  the  rule,  etc.  —  The  construction 
plainly  is,  I  know  not  how  it  is,  but  I  do  find  it,  by  the 
rule  of  that  philosophy,  etc.,  cowardly  and  vile.  The 
common  pointing  of  the  modern  editors,  w^hich  com- 
pletely separates  ••'  I  know  not  how,"  etc.,  from  what 
precedes,  leaves  the  "  by  the  rule  "  without  connec- 
tion or  meaning.  It  is  impossible  to  suppose  that 
Brutus  can  mean  "  I  am  determined  to  do  by  the  rule 
of  that  philosophy,"  etc.  [This  meaning,  which  Craik 
considers  "  impossible  "  (I  am  determined  to  do  by^ 
i.  e.  act  in  accordance  with,  govern  myself  by,  the 
rule  of  that  philosophy,  etc.),  seems,  on  the  whole, 
the  best  possible.  So  Dyce  and  Hudson  appear 
to  understand  the  passage,  pointing  it  as  follows, 
making  "  I  know  not  how  .  .  .  The  time  of  life " 
parenthetical :  — 

Even  by  the  rule  of  that  philosophy, 

By  which  I  did  blame  Cato  for  the  death 

Which  he  did  give  himself;  —  I  know  not  how, 

But  I  do  find  it  cowardly  and  vile, 

For  fear  of  what  might  fall,  so  to  prevent 

The  time  of  life ;  —  arming  myself  with  patience,  etc. 

Collier  and  White  put  a  period  after  "  himself;"  but 
how  the  latter  part  of  the  passage  is  to  be  interpreted 
with  that  pointing,  is  beyond  my  comprehension.] 

708.  The  term  of  life.  —  That  is,  the  termination, 
the  end,  of  life.  The  common  reading  is  "  the  time 
of  life,"  which  is  simply  nonsense  ;  term  is  the  emen- 
dation of  Mr.  Collier's  MS.  annotator,  and  the  same 


sc.  I.]  Julius  C^sar.  367 

emendation  had  also  been  made  conjecturally  by 
Capell,  though  it  failed  to  obtain  the  acquiescence 
of  subsequent  editors.  [I  cannot  but  think,  with 
Dyce,  that  the  alteration  is  a  most  unnecessary  one. 
As  Hudson  says,  "  by  ti7ne  is  meant  the  full  time, 
the  natural  period."  Staunton  compares  "  the  time 
of  life  is  short,"  i  Henry  IV.  v.  2,  but  it  is  not 
exactly  parallel  to  the  expression  here.]  For  to 
prevent ,1  see  147  and  161. 

708 .  To  stay  the  providence  of  those  high  powers, 
—  To  stay  is  here  to  await,  not,  as  the  word  more 
commonly  means,  to  hinder  or  delay.  —  "  Some  high 
powers "  is  the  common  reading ;  those  is  the  cor- 
rection of  Mr.  Collier's  MS.  annotator,  and  might 
almost  have  been  assumed  on  conjecture  to  be  the 
true  word.  [It  is  not  adopted  by  Dyce,  Hudson, 
Staunton,  or  White.] 

709.  [  Thorough  the  streets.  —  See  338.] 

710.  No^  Cassius^  no :  etc.  —  There  has  been  some 
controversy  about  the  reasoning  of  Brutus  in  this 
dialogue.  Both  Steevens  and  Malone  conceive  that 
there  is  an  inconsistency  between  what  lie  here  says 
and  his  previous  declaration  of  his  determination 
not  to  follow  the  example  of  Cato.  But  how  did 
Cato  act?  He  slew  himself  that  he  might  not  wit- 
ness and  outlive  the  fall  of  Utica.  This  was,  merely 
"for  fear  of  what  might  fall,"  to  anticipate  the  end 
of  life.  It  did  not  follow  that  it  would  be  wrong,  in 
the  opinion  of  Brutus,  to  commit  suicide  in  order  to 
escape  any  certain  and  otherwise  inevitable  calamity 
or  degradation,  such  as  being  led  in  triumph  through 
the  streets  of  Rome  by  Octavius  and  Antony. 

It  is  proper  to  remark,  however,  that  Plutarch, 
upon  whose  narrative  the  conversation  is  founded, 
makes  Brutus  confess  to  a  change  of  opinion.    Here 


368  Philological  Commentary,     [act  v. 

is  the  passage,  in  the  Life  of  Brutus,  as  translated 
by  Sir  Thomas  North :  "  Then  Cassius  began  to 
speak  first,  and  said :  The  gods  grant  us,  O  Brutus, 
that  this  day  we  may  win  the  field,  and  ever  after  to 
live  all  the  rest  of  our  life  quietly,  one  with  another. 
But,  sith  the  gods  have  so  ordained  it,  that  the  great- 
est and  chiefest  [things]  amongst  men  are  most 
uncertain,  and  that,  if  the  battle  fall  out  otherwise 
to-day  than  we  wish  or  look  for,  we  shall  hardly 
meet  again,  what  art  thou  then  determined  to  do? 
to  fly?  or  die?  Brutus  answered  him:  Being  yet 
but  a  young  man,  and  not  over  greatly  experienced 
in  the  world,  I  trust  \^trustedli  (I  know  not  how)  a 
certain  rule  of  philosophy,  by  the  which  I  did  greatly 
blame  and  reprove  Cato  for  killing  of  himself,  as 
being  no  lawful  nor  godly  act  touching  the  gods, 
nor,  concerning  men,  valiant ;  not  to  give  place  and 
yield  to  divine  Providence,  and  not  constantly  and 
patiently  to  take  whatsoever  it  pleaseth  him  to  send 
us,  but  to  draw  back  and  fly.  But,  being  now  in  the 
midst  of  the  danger,  I  am  of  a  contrary  mind.  For, 
if  it  be  not  the  will  of  God  that  this  battle  fall  out 
fortunate  for  us,  I  will  look  no  more  for  hope,  neither 
seek  to  make  any  new  supply  for  war  again,  but  will 
rid  me  of  this  miserable  world,  and  content  me  with 
my  fortune.  For  I  gave  up  my  life  for  my  country 
in  the  Ides  of  March  ;  for  the  which  I  shall  live  in 
another  more  glorious  world." 

This,  compared  with  the  scene  in  the  Play  affords 
a  most  interesting  and  instructive  illustration  of  the 
manner  in  which  the  great  dramatist  worked  in  such 
cases,  appropriating,  rejecting,  adding,  as  suited  his 
purpose,  but  refining  or  elevating  everything,  though 
sometimes  by  the  slightest  touch,  and  so  transmuting 
all  into  the  gold  of  poetry. 


sc.  II.,  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  369 

710.  Must  end  that  work  the  ides  of  March 
legun,  —  Begu7i  is  the  word  in  the  old  editions. 
Mr.  Collier  has  began.  The  three  last  Folios  all 
have  "  that  Ides  of  March  begun." 

Scene  II.  713.  Give  these  bills.  —  These  billets, 
as  we  should  now  say ;  but  Shakespeare  takes  the 
word  which  he  found  in  '^ox\}Ci?>  Plutarch:  "In 
the  mean  time  Brutus,  that  led  the  right  wing,  sent 
little  bills  to  the  colonels  and  captains  of  private 
bands,  in  which  he  wrote  the  word  of  the  battle." 

As  in  all  other  cases  throughout  the  Play,  the 
notices  of  the  locality  of  what  are  here  called  the 
Second  and  Third  Scenes  are  modern  additions  to 
the  old  text,  in  which  there  is  no  division  into  scenes. 
The  stage  directions  in  regard  to  alarums,  entries, 
etc.,  are  all  in  the  First  Folio. 

713.  But  cold  demeanour  in  Octavius*  wing. — 
The  original  text  has  '•'•  Octavio* s  wing."  In  715, 
however,  it  is  Octavius. 

Scene  III.  7^4*  This  ensign  here  of  mine  was 
turning  back.  —  Here  the  term  ensign  may  almost 
be  said  to  be  used  with  the  double  meaning  of  both 
the  standard  and  the  standard-bearer. 

715.  Took  it  too  eagerly,  —  Followed  his  ad- 
vantage too  eagerly.  The  prosody  of  this  line,  with 
its  two  superfluous  syllables,  well  expresses  the  hurry 
and  impetuosity  of  the  speaker. 

719.  \_  Whether  yond  troops.  —  See  65.  Hudson 
and  White  in  both  passages  give  yond\  as  if  yond 
were  not  a  good  English  word.  So  in  724  they 
print  'light  for  light.'] 

721.  Go,,  Pindarus.,  get  higher  on  that  hill. — 
This  is  the  reading  of  the  First  Folio  ;  all  the  others 
24 


370  Philological  Commentary,      [act  v. 

have  "  get  hither."  The  stage  direction  '-'-Exit  Pin- 
darus"  is  modern. 

721.  This  day  I  breathed  Jirst.  —  Compare  this 
expression  with  what  we  have  in  703:  ''As  this 
very  day  Was  Cassius  born." 

721.  Ti7ne  is  come  round.  .  .  .  My  life  is  run 
his  compass.  —  See  373. 

721.  Sirrah^  what  news?  —  The  expressive  effect 
of  the  break  in  the  even  flow  of  the  rhythm  produced 
by  the  superfluous  syllable  here,  and  the  vividness 
with  which  it  brings  before  us  the  sudden  awakening 
of  Cassius  from  his  reverie,  startled,  we  may  sup- 
pose, by  some  sign  of  agitation  on  the  part  of  Pin- 
darus,  will  be  felt  if  we  will  try  how  the  line  would 
read  with  "^'/r,  what  news?" 

724.  With  horsemen  that  make  to  him  on  the 
spur.  —  One  of  the  applications  of  the  verb  to  make 
which  we  have  now  lost.     See  680. 

724.  Now.,  Titiniusl  Now  some  light:  etc.  —  It 
may  be  doubted  whether  the  verb  to  light  or  alight 
have  any  connection  with  either  the  substantive  or 
the  adjective  light.  There  evidently  was,  however, 
in  that  marvellous  array  in  which  the  whole  world 
of  words  was  marshalled  in  the  mind  of  Milton  :  — 

So,  besides 
Mine  own  that  bide  upon  me,  all  from  me 
Shall  with  a  fierce  reflux  on  me  redound ; 
On  me,  as  on  their  natural  centre,  light 
Heavy.  Par.  Lost^  x.  741. 

In  the  original  text,  "  He's  ta'en"  stands  in  a  line  by 
itself,  as  frequently  happens  in  that  edition  with 
words  that  really  belong  to  the  preceding  verse,  and 
possibly,  notwithstanding  their  detached  position, 
were  intended  to  be  represented  as  belonging  to  it. 

725.  Take  thou  the  hilts.  —  Formerly   the  hilts 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  371 

was  rather  more  common  than  the  hilt.  Shake- 
speare uses  both  forms.  Hilt  is  a  Saxon  word,  and 
is  connected,  apparently,  with  healdan^  to  hold. 

725.  Even  with  the  sword  that  killed  thee, — 
See  362.  The  stage  directions.  Dies  and  Exit^  are 
modern ;  and  for  ''''Re-enter  Titinius^  with  Mes- 
sala"  the  old  copies  have  '''•Enter"  etc. 

727.  //  is  but  change.  —  The  battle  is  only  a  suc- 
cession of  alternations  or  vicissitudes. 

734.  No^  this  was  he^  Messala.  —  With  the  em- 
phasis on  was. 

734.  As  in  thy  red  rays  thou  dost  sink  to  night, 
—  The  to  night  here  seems  to  be  generally  under- 
stood as  meaning  this  night.  Both  Mr.  Collier  and 
Mr.  Knight  print  "  to-night."  But  surely  a  far 
nobler  sense  is  given  to  the  words  by  taking  sink  to 
night  to  be  an  expression  of  the  same  kind  with  sink 
to  rest  or  sink  to  sleep.  The  colorless  dulness  of 
the  coming  night  is  contrasted  with  the  red  glow  in 
which  the  luminary  is  descending.  "  O  setting  sun, 
Thou  dost  sink"  moaning  simply  thou  dost  set^  is 
not  much  in  Shakespeare's  manner.  Besides,  we 
hardly  say,  absolutely,  that  the  sun  sinks^  whether 
we  mean  that  it  is  setting  or  only  that  it  is  descend- 
ing. And  the  emphasis  given  by  the  to-night  to  the 
mere  expression  of  the  time  seems  uncalled-for  and 
unnatural.  There  is  no  trace  of  a  hyphen  in  the  old 
copies.  [In  his  second  edition  Collier  omits  the 
hyphen,  "  at  the  instance  of  Mr.  Craik."  Dyce, 
Hudson,  Staunton,  and  White  also  have  "  to  night." 
White  prints  "  do'st,"  confounding  doest  and  dost^ 
the  latter  of  which  is  the.  established  form  when  the 
verb  is  an  auxiliary,  as  here.  JDost  is  sometimes 
found  in  old  writers  for  doest  (as  in  3,  "  What  dost 
thou,"  etc.,  where  White  so  prints  it),  but  I  believe 


372  Philological  Commentary,      [act  v. 

doest  is  not  found  for  dost.  In  737,  White  prints 
"did'st"  for  "didst."  He  has  also  such  forms  as 
"  cri'd,"  "  tri'd,"  and  "  di'st,"  which,  though  con- 
tractions of  legitimate  words,  are  none  the  less 
offensive  to  the  eye.] 

734,  735.  Mistrust  of  my  success^  etc.  —  These 
two  lines  may  show  us  that  the  word  success  was  not 
yet  when  Shakespeare  wrote  quite  fixed  in  the  sense 
which  it  now  bears.  It  is  plain  that  success  simply 
was  not  understood  to  imply  all  that  was  conveyed 
by  the  expression  good  success.  By  "  mistrust  of 
my  success"  Titinius  must  be  interpreted  as  meaning 
no  more  than  mistrust,  doubt,  or  apprehension  of 
what  I  had  met  with  ;  in  conformity  with  what  he 
afterwards  says  in  apostrophizing  Cassius,  "  Alas, 
thou  hast  misconstrued  everything."  [Compare 
Josh.  i.  8.  Hall  (^Henry  IV.),  1548,  has  "un- 
fortunate success ;  "  and  North  i^Plutarch^ s  Ara- 
tus),  1597?  "good  success."  For  other  examples 
see  229.] 

735.  O  hateful  Error  I  Melancholy's  child  I  — 
Error  and  Melancholy  are  personages,  and  the  words 
are  proper  names,  here.  [Dyce,  Hudson,  and  White 
do  not  use  the  capitals.] 

735.   To  the  apt  thoughts  of  men,  —  See  344. 

738.  Hie  you,  Messala.  —  See  139. 

738.  And  I  will  seek  for  Pindarus  the  while.  — 
We  are  still  familiar  enough  with  the  while,  for 
meanwhile,  or  in  the  mean  time,  in  poetry,  in  which 
so  many  phrases  not  of  the  day  are  preserved ;  but 
the  expression  no  longer  forms  part  of  what  can 
properly  be  called  our  living  English. 

The  stage  direction,  ''''Exit  Messala"  is  modern. 

738.  And  bid  me  give  it  thee?  etc.  —  This  is  no 


sc.  III.]  Julius  C^sar.  373 

Alexandrine,  but  only  a  common  heroic  verse  with 
two  supernumerary  short  syllables. 

738.  But  hold  thee.  —  Equivalent  to  our  modern 
But  hold,  or  but  stop. 

738.  Brutus^  co77ie  apace.  —  Apace  is  literally  at, 
or  rather  on,  pace ;  that  is,  by  the  exertion  of  all 
your  power  of  pacing.     See  6^. 

738.  By  your  leave.,  gods.  —  See  357.  The  stage 
direction  that  follows  this  speech  in  the  original 
edition  is.  Alarum.  Enter  Brutus.,  Messala^yong 
Cato^  Strato.)   Volum?zius^  and  Lucillius.^^ 

740.  Titinius  mourning  it.  —  An  unusual  con- 
struction of  the  verb  to  mourn  in  this  sense.  We 
speak  commonly  enough  of  mourning  the  death  of  a 
person,  or  any  other  thing  that  may  have  happened  ; 
we  might  even  perhaps  speak  of  mourning  the  per- 
son who  is  dead  or  the  thing  that  is  lost ;  but  we 
only  mourn  over  the  dead  body.  So  with  lament. 
We  lament  the  death  or  the  loss,  the  man  or  the 
thing,  but  not  the  body  out  of  which  the  spirit 
is  gone. 

743.  hi  our  own  proper  entrails.  —  That  is, 
into^  as  we  should  now  say.     [See  12,  45,  and  122.] 

744.  Look  iv/i'.e'r  he  have  not.  —  That  is,  "  whether 
he  have  not."  See  16.  The  word  is  here  again 
printed  "where*'  in  the  original  edition. 

745.  The  last  of  all  the  Romans.  —  This  is  the 
reading  of  all  the  Folios ;  and  it  is  left  untouched  by 
Mr.  Collier's  MS.  corrector.  ^^Thou  last"  is  the 
conjectural' emendation  of  Rowe.  [Dyce,  Hudson, 
and  White  have  "  the."] 

745.  I  owe  moe  tears.  —  Moe  (or  mo)  is  the  word 
as  it  stands  in  both  the  First  and  the  Second  Folio. 
See  158. 

745.   To    ThassQs  send  his  body.  — *Thassos   is 


374  Philological  Commentary,      [act  v. 

misprinted  Tharsus  in  all  the  Folios,  and  the  error 
was  first  corrected  by  Theobald.  Thassos  is  the 
place  mentioned  by  Plutarch  (in  his  Life  of  Brutus) 
as  that  to  which  the  body  was  sent  to  be  interred, 
and  the  name  is  correctly  given  in  North's  transla- 
tion, which  Shakespeare  had  before  him.  [The 
Cambridge  Edition  gives  Thasos^  which  is  the  more 
correct  form  of  the  name.] 

745.  His  funei'als.  —  As  we  still  say  nuptials^  so 
they  formerly  often  ^2C\di  funerals,  [Hudson  has  "  fu- 
neral" here.     Compare  Titus  Andronicus^  i.  i  :  — 

and  wise  Laertes'  son 

Did  graciously  plead  for  his  funerals.] 

So  Junerailles  in  French  o.ic\dyunera  in  Latin.  On 
the  other  hand,  Shakespeare's  word  is  always  nup- 
tial. Nuptials  occurs  only  in  one  passage  of  the 
very  corrupt  text  oi  Pericles  :  "  We'll  celebrate  their 
nuptials"  (v.  3),  and  in  one  other  passage  of  Othello 
as  it  stands  in  the  Quarto :  "  It  is  the  celebration 
of  his  nuptials  (ii.  2),  where,  however,  all  the  other 
old  copies  have  nuptial^  as  elsewhere. 

745.  Labeo  and  Flavius^  etc.  —  In  the  First  Folio, 
^''Labio  and  Flavio;^^  in  the  others,  ''''Labio  and 
Flavius.^^ 

For  "  set  our  battles  on  "  see  668. 

745.  'Tis  three  d clock.  —  In  the  original  edition, 
"  three  a  clocke."     See  ^^. 

Scene  IV.  All  that  we  have  in  the  Folios  for 
the  heading  of  this  Scene  is,  '-''Alarum.  Enter 
Brutus^  Messala^  Cato^  Lucilius^  and  Flavins.'^ 
And  the  only  stage  directions  that  we  have  through- 
out the  Scene  are  ^'' Enter  Soldiers^  and  Jight^'  im- 
mediately before  the  speech  of  Brutus  (746),  and  the 
'^Exeunt''  at  the  end. 


sc.  IV.]  Julius  C^sar.  375 

747.    What  bastard  doth  not?  —  See  177. 

751*  There  is  so  much^  that  thou  wilt  kill  me 
straight.  The  evident  meaning  of  these  words  has 
strangely  escaped  the  acuteness  of  Warburton,  whose 
interpretation  (1747)  is,  "So  much  resistance  still 
on  foot,  that  thou  wilt  choose  to  rid  me  out  of  the 
way,  that  thou  mayst  go,  without  the  embarras  of 
prisoners,  to  the  assistance  of  thy  friends  who  still 
want  it."  The  true  explanation  is  very  well  given 
by  Heath  in  replying  to  this  (in  his  Revisal  of 
Shakespeare's  Text,  1^6^):  "There  is  so  much 
money  for  thee,  on  condition  that  thou  wilt  kill  me 
straight." 

752.  We  must  not.  —  A  noble  prisoner  I  —  The 
original  edition  places  the  entry  of  Antony  immedi- 
ately after  this  speech. 

754.  /'//  tell  the  news.  —  This  is  the  conjectural 
emendation  of  Theobald.  All  the  Folios,  and  also 
both  Rowe  and  Pope,  have  thee  for  the.  Mr.  Collier 
adopts  the  emendation.  [So  do  Dyce,  Hudson,  and 
White.] 

757.  And  see  whe'r  Brutus  be  alive  or  dead. — 
See  16  and  744.  It  is  "  where  "  again  in  the  original 
text. 

757*  How  everything  is  chanced.  —  See  69  and 
373- 

Scene  V.  The  heading  of  Scene  V.,  with  the 
locality,  is,  as  usual,  modern. 

760.  Sit  thee  down.  —  In  this  common  phrase, 
apparently,  the  neuter  verb  to  sit  has  taken  the  place 
of  the  active  to  seat.  Or  perhaps  we  ought  rather 
to  say  that  both  in  Sit  thee  and  in  Hark  thee,  which 
we  have  in  the  next  line  and  again  in  764,  thee  has 
usurped  the  function  of  thou.     We  have  a  similar 


37^  Philological  Commentary,      [act  v. 

irregularity  in  Fare  (that  is,  go)  thee  well.  [Verbs 
of  motion  in  Saxon  are  followed  by  the  dative :  sit 
thee  is  nothing  more  than  a  case  of  this  dative,  per- 
haps ;  or  if  a  reflective  verb,  it  is  nothing  strange.] 
—  The  marginal  ''''Whispering"  at  this  speech  is 
modern  ;  and  so  is  the  "  Whispers  him  "  at  764. 

770.   That  it  runs  over.  —  So  that,  as  in  15. 

773 .  Here  in  Philippi fields. — A  common  enough 
form  of  expression ;  as  Chelsea  Fields,  Kensington 
Gardens.  There  is  no  need  of  an  apostrophe 
to  Philippi.  [North's  Plutarch  has  "  Philippian 
fields."] 

775.  Hold  thou  my  sword  hilts.  —  See  725. 

777.  There  is  no  tarrying  here.  —  So  in  Macbeth^ 
V.  5,  "  There  is  nor  flying  hence,  nor  tarrying  here." 
The  expression  is  from  North's  Plutarch :  "  Vo- 
lumnius  denied  his  request,  and  so  did  many  others. 
And,  amongst  the  rest,  one  of  them  said,  there  was 
no  tanying  for  them,  there^  but  that  they  must 
nee  Is  fly." 

77S.  Parewell  to  you;  —  etc.  —  Mr.  Collier  ap- 
pends the  stage  direction,  '-'- Shaking  hands  sev- 
erally." 

778.  Farewell  to  thee  too.,  Strato.  —  In  all  the 
Folios  this  stands,  "  Farevsrell  to  thee,  to  Strato." 
The  correction  is  one  of  the  many  made  by  Theo- 
bald which  have  been  universally  acquiesced  in.  It 
appears  to  have  escaped  Mr.  Collier's  MS.  annotator. 

780.  Hence;  I  will  follow.  —  This  is  the  reading 
of  all  the  old  copies.  Pope  adds  thee^  in  order  to 
make  a  complete  line  of  the  two  hemistichs.  —  The 
'''•Exeunt  Clitus"  etc.,  is  modern. 

780.  Thou  art  a  fellow  of  a  good  respect.  — 
See  48. 

780.   Thy  life  hath  had  some  smatch  of  honor 


sc.  v.]  Julius  C^sar.  377 

in  it.  —  Smatck  is  only  another  form  of  smack^ 
meaning  taste.  Smack  is  the  word  which  Shake- 
speare commonly  uses,  both  as  noun  and  verb. 
[White  has  ''  smack."] 

In  the  early  editions,  the  stage  direction  after  the 
last  speech  of  Brutus  (782)  is,  simply,  '-'Dies;"  and 
in  the  Entry  that  follows  Antony  is  placed  before 
Octavius^  and  "  their  Army"  is  "  the  Army." 

787.  I  will  entertain  them.  —  Receive  them  into 
my  service. 

787.  Wilt  thou  bestow  thy  time  with  me?  — 
Here  is  another  sense  of  bestow^  in  addition  to  that 
in  139,  which  is  now  lost.  Bestow  thy  time  with 
7ne  means  give  up  thy  time  to  me. 

788.  If  Messala  will  f  refer  me  to  you.  —  "  To 
frefer^'  Reed  observes,  "  seems  to  have  been  the 
established  phrase  for  recommending  a  servant." 
And  he  quotes  from  The  Merchant  of  Venice^  ii.  2, 
what  Bassanio  says  to  Launcelot,  — 

Shylock,  thy  master,  spoke  with  me  this  day, 
And  hath  preferred  thee. 

But  to  f  refer  was  more  than  merely  to  recommend. 
It  was  rather  to  transfer,  or  hand  over ;  as  might  be 
inferred  even  from  what  Octavius  here  rejoins,  "  Do 
so,  good  Messala."  That  it  had  come  usually  to 
imply  also  something  of  promotion  may  be  seen 
from  what  Bassanio  goes  on  to  say  :  — 

if  it  be  preferment 

To  leave  a  rich  Jew's  service,  to  become 
The  follower  of  so  poor  a  gentleman. 

The  sense  of  the  verb  to  prefer  that  we  have  in 
Shakespeare  continued  current  down  to  a  consid- 
erably later  date.  Thus  Clarendon  writes  of  Lord 
Cottington,   "His  mother  was   a  Stafford,    nearly 


378  Philological  Commentary,      [act  v. 

allied  to  Sir  Edward  Stafford ;  ...  by  whom  this 
gentleman  was  brought  up,  .  .  .  and  by  him  recom- 
mended to  Sir  Robert  Cecil  .  .  . ;  who  preferred 
him  to  Sir  Charles  Cornwallis,  when  he  went  am- 
bassador into  Spain  ;  where  he  remained  for  the 
space  of  eleven  or  twelve  years  in  the  condition  of 
Secretary  or  Agent,  without  ever  returning  into 
England  in  all  that  time"  i^Hist.^  Book  xiii.). 

At  an  earlier  date,  again,  we  have  Bacon,  in  the 
Dedication  of  the  first  edition  of  his  Essays  to  his 
brother  Anthony,  thus  writing  :  "  Since  they  would 
not  stay  with  their  master,  but  would  needs*  travail 
abroad,  I  have  preferred  them  to  you,  that  are  next 
myself,  dedicating  them,  such  as  they  are,  to  our 
love,"  etc. 

790.  How  died  my  master^  Strata  P  —  So  the 
First  Folio.  The  Second,  by  a  misprint,  omits 
master.     The  Third  and  Fourth  have  "  my  lord" 

792.  Octavius^  then  take  him^  etc.  —  That  is, 
accept  or  receive  him  from  me.  It  is  not,  I  request 
you  to  allow  him  to  enter  your  service ;  but  I  give 
him  to  you.     See  788. 

793.  He  only^  in  a  generous  honest  thought  Of 
common  good^  etc.  —  We  are  indebted  for  this  read- 
ing to  Mr.  Collier's  MS.  annotator.  It  is  surely  a 
great  improvement  upon  the  old  text,  — 

He  only  in  a  general  honest  thought, 

And  common  good  to  all,  made  one  of  them. 

To  act  "in  a  general  honest  thought"  is  perhaps 
intelligible,  though  barely  so ;  but,  besides  the  tau- 
tology w^hich  must  be  admitted  on  the  common  in- 
terpretation, what  is  to  act  "  in  a  common  good  to 
all"?  [Dyce,  Hudson,  and  White  follow  the  old 
text,  which  is  hardly  so  bad  as  Collier  and  Craik 
would  make  it.] 


sc.  v.]  Julius  C^sar.  379 

793.  Made  one  of  them.  —  In  this  still  familiar 
idiom  made  is  equivalent  to  formed,  constituted,  and 
one  must  be  considered  as  the  accusative  governed 
by  it.  Fecit  unum.  ex  eis,  or  eoru?n  (by  joining 
himself  to  them). 

Here  is  the  prose  of  Plutarch,  as  translated  by 
North,  out  of  w^hich  this  poetry  has  been  w^rought :" 
''For  it  was  said  .that  Antonius  spake  it  openly 
divers  times,  that  he  thought,  that,  of  all  them  that 
had  slain  Caesar,  there  was  none  but  Brutus  only 
that  was  moved  to  it  as  thinking  the  act  commenda- 
ble of  itself;  but  that  all  the  other  conspirators  did 
conspire  his  death  for  some  private  malice  or  envy 
that  they  otherwise  did  bear  unto  him." 

793.  His  life  was  gentle;  and  the  elem.ents^  etc. 
—  This  passage  is  remarkable  from  its  resemblance  to 
a  passage  in  Drayton's  poem  of  The  Barons'  Wars. 
Drayton's  poem  was  originally  published  some  years 
before  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century  (according 
to  Ritson,  Bibl.  Poet..,  under  the  title  of  '•^ Morteme- 
riados.  .  .  .  Printed  by  J.  R.  for  Matthew  Lownes, 
1596,"  4to)  ;  but  there  is,  it  seems,  no  trace  of  the 
passage  in  question  in  that  edition.  The  first  edition 
in  which  it  is  found  is  that  of  1603,  in  which  it 
stands  thus :  — 

Such  one  he  was  (of  him  we  boldly  say) 

In  whose  rich  soul  all  sovereign  powers  did  suit, 

In  whom  in  peace  the  elements  all  lay 

So  mixt,  as  none  could  sovereignty  impute ; 

As  all  did  govern,  yet  all  did  obey : 

His  lively  temper  was  so  absolute, 

That 't  seemed,  when  heaven  his  model  first  began, 

In  him  it  showed  perfection  in  a  man. 

[And  the  stanza  remained  thus  in  the  editions  of 
1605,  1607,  1608,  1610,  and  1613.] 


380  Philological  Commentary,      [act  v. 

In  a  subsequent  edition  published  in  1619  it  is 
remodelled  as  follows  :  — 

He  was  a  man  (then  boldly  dare  to  say) 
In  whose  rich  soul  the  virtues  well  did  suit; 
In  whom  so  mixt  the  elements  all  lay 
That  none  to  one  could  sovereignty  impute ; 
As  all  did  govern,  so  did  all  obey : 
He  of  a  temper  was  so  absolute, 
As  that  it  seemed,  when  nature  him  began, 
She  meant  to  show  all  that  might  be  in  man. 

Malone  is  inclined  to  think  that  Drayton  was  the 
copyist,  even  as  his  verses  originally  stood.  "  In 
the  altered  stanza,"  he  adds,  "  he  certainly  was." 
Steevens,  in  the  mistaken  notion  that  Drayton's 
stanza  as  found  in  the  edition  of  his  Barons^  Wars 
published  in  16 19  had  appeared  in  the  original 
poem,  published,  as  he  conceives,  in  1598,  had  sup- 
posed that  Shakespeare  had  in  this  instance  deigned 
to  imitate  or  borrow  from  his  contemporary. 

[White  remarks,  ''  But  this  resemblance  implies 
no  imitation  on  either  side.  For  the  notion  that 
man  was  composed  of  the  four  elements,  earth,  air, 
fire,  and  water,  and  that  the  well-balanced  mixture 
of  these  produced  the  prefection  of  humanity,  was 
commonly  held  during  the  sixteenth,  and  the  first 
half,  at  least,  of  the  seventeenth  century,  the  writers 
of  which  period  worked  it  up  in  all  manner  of  forms. 
Malone  himself  pointed  out  the  following  passage  in 
Ben  Jonson's  Cynthia^ s  Revels  (ii.  3),  which  was 
acted  in  1600,  three  years  before  the  publication  of 
the  recast  Barons'  Wars:  'A  creature  of  a  most 
perfect  and  divine  temper^  one  in  whom  the 
humours  and  elements  are  peaceably  met,  without 
emulation  of  precedency.'  And  see  the  Mirror 
for  Magistrates,  Part  I.,  1575  :  — 


sc.  v.]  Julius  C^sar.  381 

If  wee  consider  could  the  substance  of  a  man 
How  he  composed  is  of  Elements  bj  kinde,  etc. 

And  The  Of  tick  Glass  of  Humours  :  '  Wee  must 
know  that  all  natural  bodies  have  their  composition 
of  the  mixtu7'e  of  the  Elements^  fire,  aire,  water, 
earth.'  See  also  Nares's  Glossary  and  Richardson's 
English  Dictionary^  in  v.  '  Elements.'  .  .  .  Im- 
itation of  one  poet  by  another  might  have  been  much 
more  reasonably  charged  by  any  editor  or  com- 
mentator who  had  happened  to  notice  the  following 
similarity  between  a  speech  of  Antony's  and  another 
passage  in  the  Barons'   Wars :  — 

I  tell  you  that  which  you  yourselves  do  know ; 

Shew  you  sweet  Caesar's  'wounds^  poor,  poor  dumb  mouths, 

Would  ruffle  up  your  spirits,  and  put^  tongue 
In  every  vjound  of  Caesar,  etc.     (iii.  2.) 

That  now  their  wounds  Qwtih  mouthes  euen  open'd  wide) 
Lastly  inforc'd  to  call  for  present  death, 
That  wants  but  Tongues^  your  Swords  doe  giue  them  breath. 
(Book  ii.  St.  38,  ed.  1603.)  "  ] 

794.  To  part  the  glories  of  this  happy  day.  — 
That  is,  to  distribute  to  each  man  his  due  share  in 
its  glories.  The  original  stage  direction  is  '-^Exeunt 
omnes" 


1 


INDEX. 


a-,  an-,  65,  559. 

abide,  326, 

abjects,  497. 

aboard,  65. 

aby,  326. 

addressed,  299. 

advantage,  357. 

afeard,  244. 

aim,  57. 

alderliefest,  54. 

alight,  724. 

alive,  65. 

all  over,  175. 

aloft,  65. 

along  by,  200. 

and  (an),  89. 

apace,  738. 

apparent,  194. 

approve,  147. 

apt,  344- 

aptitude,  344. 

are,  129,  559. 

arrive,  54. 

art  (noun),  614. 

art  (verb),  559. 

as,  44,  57.  >77.  328,  407. 

703- 
ascended  (is),  373. 
aside,  65. 
assembly,  246. 
astir,  251. 
as  well,  56. 
at,  507. 
Ate,  362. 
attempered,  561. 
augurer,  194. 
aweary,  etc.,  559. 
awful,  671. 
ay,  54,  529- 
aye,  674. 
ay  me  1  278. 


bait,  528,  529. 
base,  147. 


bastard,  177. 
bate,  528,  529. 
battle,  670. 
bay,  348,  528,  529. 
be,  559- 
be  (are),  67. 
be-,  389.  459- 
bear  hard,  105. 
become,  389 
been,  268. 
beest,  559. 
befall,  6g,  707. 
behaviors,  45. 
beholden,  389. 
believe,  389. 
belike,  459. 
belong,  389. 
beloved,  389. 
beseech,  389. 
beshrew,  186. 
beside,  347. 
bestow,  139,  787. 
betimes,  668. 
betoken,  389. 
bid,  I. 
bills,  713. 
bloods,  56. 
break  with,  182. 
bring,  106. 
business,  495. 
bustle,  266. 
busy,  266. 
by,  124,  344. 


can,  I,  559. 
carrion,  177. 

cast,    122. 

cause,  I. 
cautel,  177. 
cautelous,  177. 
censure,  374. 
ceremonies,  16,  194. 
chafe,  54. 
chance,  69. 


charactery,  314. 
charm,  209. 
check,''559. 
cheer,  324. 
chew,  57. 
chide,  568. 
clean,  no. 
clever,  347. 
color,  147. 
come  home,  104. 
comfort,  211. 
command,  278. 
commend,  278. 
commerce,  524. 
compact,  351. 
companion,  577. 
company,  577. 
con,  559. 
conceit,  142. 
condemn  to,  524. 
condition,  205. 
consort,  703. 
constant,  262,  309. 
content,  518. 
continence,  54. 
contrite,  259. 
contrive,  259. 
council,  262,  497- 
counsel,  262,  497. 
countenance,  54. 
court,  304 
courteous,  304. 
courtesies,  304. 
creature,  i8i. 
cunning,  559. 
curse,  186. 
curst,  186. 
curtsies,  304. 


damage,  147. 
danger,  147. 
dare,  i. 
dear,  348,  559. 
dearth,  348. 


3^4 


Index. 


decent,  i6. 

deck,  i6. 

decorate,  i6. 

degrees,  147. 

deliberate,  347. 

deliver,  347. 

dent,  425. 

desire,  306. 

die,  16. 

difference,  45. 

dint,  425. 

direct,  299. 

disserve,  524. 

distract,  589. 

distraught,  589. 

do,  I,  16,  147,  229,  386, 

502. 
doom,  328. 
dist,  do'st,  734. 
dotage,  304. 
dote,  304. 
dreadful,  671. 
dress,  299. 
drown,  128. 


early,  493. 
earn,  258. 
earnest,  258. 
-ed,  16,  246. 
either,  227. 
element,  130. 
emulation,  259. 
endure,  i. 
enforce,  376. 
enlarge,  518. 
ensign,  714. 
entertain,  787. 
envy,  187. 
ere,  493. 
errand,  493. 
errant,  493. 
erroneous,  493. 
error,  493. 
esteem,  57. 
eventide,  362. 
every,  674. 
exigent,  675. 
exorcise,  221. 
expedition,  597. 


factious,  129. 
fall,  177.  358,  507.  707' 
fantasy,  194. 
far,  48,  7t6. 
fare  thee,  760. 
farther,  45,  716. 
fasten,  671. 
fault,  120,  143. 
favor,  54,  130,  160. 
favored,  54. 
fear,  190,  244. 
fearful,  671. 


fellow,  577. 
feverous,  130. 
fire,  345. 
firm,  107. 
fleer,  129. 
flourish,  282. 
fond,  304. 
fondling,  304. 
forbid,  I. 
force  (of),  619. 
fore,  45. 

foreign-built,  no. 
forth,  45,  716. 
fray,  266. 
freedom,  306. 
friend  (to,  at),  341. 
friends  (friend),  352. 
from,  no,  194. 
funerals,  745. 
further,  45. 


garden,  143. 
ge-,  389- 
general,  147. 
genius,  155. 
get  me,  277. 
get  thee  gone,  260. 
give  sign,  679. 
give  way,  259. 
given,  66. 
glare,  109. 
go  along  by,  200. 
gore,  425. 
go  to,  530, 
greet,  241. 
griefs,  129,  435. 
grievances,  129. 
guess,  389. 


had  best,  468. 

had  like,  57. 

had  rather,  57,  550. 

hail,  241. 

hale,  241. 

hand  (at,  in,  on),  507. 

handkerchief,  218. 

hap,  69. 

happen,  69. 

happy,  69. 

hark  thee,  760. 

have,  I. 

havoc,  362. 

hawk,  362. 

he,  54. 

health,  533. 

heap,  109. 

hear,  i. 

hearse,  421. 

heart's  ease,  67. 

heir,  194. 

help,  I. 

hence,  624. 


her,  54. 

herd,  128. 

herself,  56. 

hie,  139. 

hilts,  725,  775. 

himself,  56,  598. 

hind,  128. 

hinder,  161. 

his,  54. 

hit  (it),  54. 

home,  624. 

home-,  no. 

hour,  255. 

however,  103. 

humor,    105,   205,   240, 

560. 
hurl,  233. 
hurtle,  233. 


I,  54- 

I  (me),  122. 
idle,  177. 
improve,  186. 
in,  6s,  122,  743. 
incorporate,  134. 
indirection,  550. 
-ing,  I. 

instance,  506. 
insuppressive,  177. 
intend,  i. 
is,  559- 
It,  54- 

Itching,  524. 
i'  the,  sa- 
lts, 54. 
itself,  54,  56. 
-ius,  6r,  501,  559. 


jealous,  50,  57- 
jig.  577- 

keep,  211. 
ken,  559. 
kerchief,  218. 
kin,  559. 
kind,  559. 
kindred,  559. 
king,  559. 
knave,  646. 
know,  559- 


lament,  740. 
lease,  362. 
leash,  362. 
let,  I,  362. 
Lethe,  348. 
let's,  707. 
liable,  67,  248. 
lie  along,  333. 
lie^  54- 


Index. 


385 


^58- 


light,  724. 
like,  57,  85 
likely,  57. 
likes,  105. 
listen,  497. 
lover,  186,  259 
lusty,  54. 


main,  194. 

make,  1,680,  724,  793. 

make  for,  294. 

make  to,  294. 

manner,  45. 

map,  407. 

market,  524. 

marry,  78. 

mart,  524. 

masters,  401,  636. 

may,  i. 

me,  89,  470. 

mercantile,  25,  524. 

merchant,  524. 

merely,  45 

mettle,  102. 

mind,  533. 

mistook,  46. 

moe,  158,  745. 

mourn,  740. 

must,  I. 

my,  89,  205. 

myself,  54,  56,  598. 


napery,  407. 
napkin,  407. 
neckerchief,  218. 
needs,  67. 
news,  589. 
nice,  523. 
niggard,  623. 
nor,  227. 
not,  1 8 1, 
nuptial,  745. 

observe,  538. 
occupation,  89. 
o'clock,  65. 
of,  50,  129. 
on,  50,  65. 
once,  612. 
o'  nights,  65. 
only,  56. 
ope,  89. 
or,  227. 
orchard,  143. 
order,  354. 
o'  the,  S3, 
other,  78. 
others,  633. 
ought,  I. 
ourself,  56. 
out,  8. 


over,  282. 
overwatched,  633. 
owe,  I. 
owed,  I. 
own,  I. 


palter,  177. 

paramour,  186. 

passion,  46. 

path,  161. 

patience,  46. 

perforce,  619. 

piety,  345. 

pious,  345. 

piteous,  345. 

pitiful,  345. 

pity,  345- 

plucked,  160. 

portent,  246. 

power,  127,  497. 

prefer,  788. 

prepare,  255. 

present,  57. 

pretend,  65. 

prevent,  147,  161,  295, 

70S. 
pnck,  351,  490. 
proceed,  60. 
proceeding,  248. 
prodigious,  122. 
produce  to,  354. 
promised  forth,  97. 
proof,  147,  691. 
proper,  12,  45. 
provender,  497. 
puissance,  497. 
puissant,  303. 


question,  376,  595. 
quite  from,  194. 


rascal,  550. 
rathe,  54. 
rather,  54. 
redress,  299. 
regard,  374. 
remorse,  147. 
render,  248,  348,  370. 
repeal,  305. 
reprove,  186. 
resolved,  338. 
respect,  48,  374,  550. 
retentive,  126. 
rived,  107. 
Rome,  56. 
rostrum,  372. 
rote,  SS9- 
round,  147. 
ruminate,  57. 
rumor,  a66. 


scandal,  50. 

scandalize,  50. 

see,  1. 

self,  54,  56- 

sennet,  39. 

sense,  497. 

separate,  443. 

set  on,  225,  668. 

sever,  443. 

several,  443. 

shake,  348. 

shall,   I,   181,   238,  248, 

350.  357.  490.  619- 
she,  54. 
shew,  186. 

should,  56,  181,  238,  550. 
shrew,  186. 
shrewd,  186,  342- 
shrewishness,  186. 
sick,  209. 
sign,  679. 
sin,  16. 
sing,  16. 
-sion,  246 
sirs,  636. 
sit  thee,  760. 
sleep,  362. 
slight,  493,  521. 
slip,  362. 
slips,  362. 
smatch,  780. 
so,  15,  44,  57.  »47.  407- 
sooth,  267. 
sore,  186. 
sorrow,  186. 
sorry,  186. 
sort,  211. 
sound,  128. 
sour,  186. 
speak,  646. 
springtide,  362. 
stale,  50. 
state,  50. 
statue,  246. 
stay,  708. 
stirred,  251. 
strain,  694. 

strange-disposed,  no. 
strew,  186. 
stricken,  46,  252. 
struck,  46,  252. 
strucken,  252,  348. 
succeed,  228. 
success,  228,  734,  735. 
such,  57,  177. 
sue,  282. 
suit,  282. 
euite,  282. 
sway,  107,  352. 
swoon,  82,  83,  128. 


tag-rag,  87. 
taste,  497- 


386 


Index. 


tempered,  561. 

temple,  362. 

tenure,  598. 

terror,  190,  194. 

than,  56,  S74. 

th  and  y,  674. 

that,  15,  44,  57,  147,  177, 

398- 
thatch,  16. 
themselves,  56. 
then  (than),  56. 
there's,  135. 
these,  57. 
these  many,  485. 
thews,  124. 
thigh,  124. 
think,  147,  189. 
this,  57. 

this  present,  57. 
this  (time),  130. 
thorough,  338. 
thoroughly,  338. 
thou,  I. 
through,  338, 
throughfare,  338. 
throughly,  338. 
thunderstone,  120. 
thyself,  56. 
tide,  362. 


tidings,  589. 
time,  362. 
-tion,  246. 
to,  I,  57.  SSo,  633. 
toward,  53. 
true  man,  87. 


unaccustomed,  194. 
undergo,  130. 
undeservers,  524. 
unmeritable,  493. 
upon,  588. 


vile,  574- 
villam,  186. 
virtue,  209. 
void,  277. 
vouchsafe,  i. 


ware,  670. 
warn,  670. 
wary,  670. 
was,  559. 
wash,  332. 
weep,  16. 
well,  503. 


were,  wert,  best,  468. 

when?  143. 

whe'r,  16,  194,  744,  757. 

which,  368,  376. 

while  (the),  738. 

whiles,  67. 

whirl,  233, 

whit,  181. 

wight,  181. 

will,    I,    181,   238,   248, 

490. 
wis,  see  ywis. 
wit,  435,  560. 
with,  124,  344,  362,  612. 
withhold,  398. 
worship,  503. 
worth,  503. 
wrote,  46. 


y-,  389. 

ye,  344- 

ye  (the),  674. 

yearn,  258. 

yon,    yond,    yonder, 

65- 
you,  344- 
yourself,  56. 
ywis,  389. 


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